


Exposure

by t0talcha0s



Category: Homestuck
Genre: AR is the sassiest bitch and i adore writing him, Beaches, Blood, Both physical and verbal fighting, Drama, It'll update every week but I keep wanting to update it quicker, M/M, Now with more annoying pesterlogs to code, POV Dirk, Swords and Guns, The usual Dirk goes to Jake's island but my take on it, Tinkerbulls centaurs and catbeasts oh my, Violence, also Spidermom, and with more brobot, everyone thinks Dirk would be touch starved but i think he would abhor touch while Jake craved it, first touch, he's just there, injuries, like he doesn't even have a purpose in this story, lots of description, the most canon compliant thing i've ever written
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-19
Updated: 2015-08-16
Packaged: 2018-03-22 17:23:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 21,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3737248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/t0talcha0s/pseuds/t0talcha0s
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything is new, and you understand none of it. All the research you've done is seemingly worthless, no textbook can teach you what it's like to feel, and you despise feeling so weak about it all. However, Jake stands in front of you, real, solid, in person, so that has to count for something.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You have never been more pissed off at a color. Green is officially on your shit list.

Suddenly you're standing in a field of green, green too much green. Everything is so. Fucking. Green. Trees, you recall from memory, yet this is your first sight of one. Strange. Smell too brisk, reminiscent of chlorophyll. It's too bright. Everything is  _too much_. You're thankful for what little protection your shades provide. Eyes squeezed shut to ward off tears and you stumble foreword, hand out to hopefully grab onto something to balance you. Your hand touches something foreign and you flinch backwards tripping and falling onto your ass, sword in hand aimed at a tree. Smooth. Grass is weird and unfamiliar beneath you and you see some of that goddamn green has rubbed off on the back of your skinny jeans. You're beginning to detest the color. You take deep gasps of breath, you're overwhelmed, over-clocking, you don't know what to do. You hear something rustling through those fucking trees and you back up a little, sword still posed in hand. You're practically vibrating, this is too much, you can't fucking handle this. Luckily what bursts through into the clearing is human, and you realize you're about to meet you're best friend flat on your ass, trying not to hyperventilate, with your fight or flight response going haywire. Great.

Jake is broader then you, different type of exercise lead to a difference in body types. He's got one built to be strong, rough fighting and surviving, you're made for speed, swift swimming and agile sword fighting. He's dark, skin tanned but naturally full of color, you're paler then a sheet of paper and covered in freckles. Small thick nose to rival your large thin one. His features all rounded, soft cheeks and muscles corded in gentle hills. You're all angles, sharp elbows and slender long features.

"By crickey! Is that you Dirk!?" He sounds delighted and you realize his voice carries a tone of naturalness.

"Jake." You say, your voice stilted and probably too quiet, it hurts a little, not used to talking. The syllable unnatural on your tongue. "Ocean." Is all you can pant out, you just want to be around something familiar, gather your bearings, calm down. You're visibly freaking the fuck out and that is not acceptable for a first meeting. You clamor to your feet, still almost shaking with tension.

"Ocean?" You're taller then him, you'll tease him about it later right now you need to not break down.

"Yes. You have one. Take me there. Now." You almost bark out the last word but your voice barely wavers. Recognition clicks within him and Jake reaches out to take your hand to lead you, and you flinch away before he can touch you. Sword held ready.

"Would you put away the bloody weapon I'm trying to help you here. The beach is just through the clearing over there. Calm down." You can't calm down. That is impossible at the current moment and you try to convey that through your facial expressions. He just huffs and turns, waving you through the trees. You're careful not to touch any, try to look only at your sword, holding onto it too tightly. You hear the sounds of an ocean but they're not right. When you reach the beach and fall to your knees on the weird, dry sand, you're taking gasping breathes.

TT: Breathe deeply dumbass, hyperventilating will make things worse. 

You're too overwhelmed to reply with snark and you obey, trying to take deep breathes. Once your breathing isn't audible anymore you open your eyes and look up. Jake is watching you, obviously confused.

"Everything okay there, Strider?" You tilt your head up to take in your surroundings and everything is wrong. The ocean is too shallow, you never had a beach, you lived in the middle of the ocean. You don't think you like beaches. Sand is strange when dry and in such vast quantities, you thought the sound of the ocean waves would help but it's wrong. It's not waves on metal, it's gentle waves on sand. You can't see anything but fish and the vague shapes of the strange monsters Jake told of under the water. No long gone civilization, no crumbled and abandoned buildings. No hints of the people who used to live there. Everything here is natural, and very much full of life. Your ocean was man-made, full of death and harsh destruction. It's all wrong.

"There aren't nearly enough seagulls." It's what comes out of your mouth instead, hopefully some form of reassurance to Jake. You've never been fond of seagulls but you almost miss them now. Jake lets out a laugh, it's strange. Everything is new, and strange, and wrong. He sits next to you, as you shift to sit crosslegged, staring at the vast expanse of ocean and imagining it's home. But it's not, you're used to seeing it from above, from knowing there's no land anywhere near. The beach is strange and you don't like it. Hands clenched tight into the too dry sand on either side of your body.

"Are you alright?" He asks as you force yourself to calm down, relax, but you're so goddamn on edge.

""Alright" has a fluid definition. Elaborate."

"You're no less of a pain in the ass in person." He grumbles without a hint of malice. "I mean you gave me quite a scare back there. None of that seemed your usual cool headed self."

"Overwhelmed." There's a much more complex unsaid explanation but you don't really feel like explaining your utterly fucked fight or flight system right now.

"Oh!" Comprehension dawns. "You've never experienced-"

"Trees, grass, a beach, solid ground, earth, seeing another human, talking this much, the list goes on man."

"Yes, I was trying to pinpoint the accent." It's nice of him to even qualify it as an accent. It's more a lilting, quiet, mispronounced slur. "Would you like me to show you home, would being indoors help?"

"I think," It's almost a pant, "a shower would be nice." He nods and gets up holding out a hand to you, and you are not ready for that yet. You wave his hand away getting up on your own. Finally tucking away your sword and almost missing the familiar feel of it in your hands. Your sword is comforting, and you almost get it back out again to calm yourself over the familiar inscription in its blade.

"Well I suspect after that reaction a tour of the island would be a bad idea then."

"Extremely so."

"Righto! Right this way then!" Jake is overly chipper and it's going to give you a headache when combined with all this stimulus. He leads you through the forest, which you refuse to look at, you stare at his shoes instead. Worn, heavy, steel toed boots interesting and new enough on their own. Soon enough you're inside of a large, worn down sphere atop a spire. He explains it's a room left over from his grandmother's compound. You have to step over miles of green vines and large orange gourds, pumpkins you realize, and by the time you're inside the cool metal feels so good and natural beneath your fingertips and feet you almost choke out a sob. You feel the ball of tension in your chest which had only wound tighter during your trek through the unfamiliar pumpkin patch, uncoil the slightest of bits. You almost sink to the floor, instead leaning against the walls, both hands on it, and gasp deeply for breath. "Shower is just up this way, Strider." He motions you foreword, walking up a small, spiraled flight of stairs, and you follow. He leads you into a bathroom, showing you where the towels are located and leaving you on your own.

As you climb under the overly hot stream of water a deep sigh escapes you. This is all too much. Maybe this was a bad idea, you don't think you can handle this properly. You planned to show Jake that not only are you badass over text, you are far more badass in person. However it appears you can't handle doing anything in person. Perhaps you overestimated yourself, you just don't know and don't understand so much. You rest your arm against the wall of the shower, taking deep breathes before starting your routine. You close your eyes and you're back at home under the familiar shower spray, your computers buzzing and whirring away in the next room. Sawtooth and Squarewave messing about where they please. You give a little hum of the song that always relaxes you and it only minutely does what you want it to. None of your homely comforts are real however, but you can at least find comfort in your usual, safe, known melody. At least that's something certain. You begin to lather shampoo into your hair and sing the words to your song quietly under your breath as you do so. You keep your eyes shut during the entirety of your shower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, hello, welcome to the beginning of the longest work I have ever planned, and ultimately written. Chapters are written far ahead of time so they'll always be on schedule. I really hope you enjoy it, I would love input here or on my tumblr (Barefootcosplayer)


	2. First Contact

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nightmares have nothing on the reality of the situation you've placed yourself in. Jake wants to touch you, you're not sure you can do this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goddamn I love Hal.

Pajamas are nice, they're comforting and normal, and as you dress in your pool ball flannel pants and grossly oversized orange sweater you're happy you bothered to bring them. After pulling on your pants, low hanging on your hips, you look in the mirror and immediately grimace. Your white-blond hair fanning and fluffing around your ears, with those positively detestable curls waving around your neck and chin. Your freckles are prominent on the red of your skin, red from the heat of the shower, you're lucky your shades cover up a fair amount of them. You look around and Jake doesn't seem to have a blow dryer and that just ticks up the annoyance in you. Annoyed at yourself for your inability to present yourself the way you want to, annoyed at your reflexes for refusing acclimate, annoyed with how fucking annoying your constantly alarmed fight of flight response is. You're mainly just annoyed with how tired and uncomfortable you are. You sigh and take a towel to your hair, furiously trying to dry it as you walk out of the bathroom into Jake's room. It's coated in posters and you find the sheer amount of eyes a bit disconcerting. Jake sits on his bed, fully engrossed in what looks like a well loved comic book. You cock your head to the side to dry your hair better and get the water out of your left ear as Jake looks up. He splits into a, far too endearing for your liking, smile. 

"Strider!" He pats the bed beside him and you go and sit lotus style next to him, tilting your head back and doubling your efforts because you hair is annoying to towel dry. "I must admit I'm still not over the shock of having you here." 

"I'm not quite over the shock of being here so don't sweat it man." He chuckles. 

"I'm sure you're quite worn out from your trip." You take it as a question and nod. "Well you can share the bed if you're so inclined." You think for a moment, finally putting the towel down and combing your hair with your fingers. 

"As long as you realize I'm not much of a cuddler, so don't expect anything." He chuckles. 

"We can build a wall of pillows to protect you from my sleeping bear hugs then." 

"Sounds good." Constructing said pillow wall is all Jake's doing while you frown at a mirror and reason with yourself that there's no point in doing your hair if you're going to sleep on it. You halfheartedly comb it back in a poor imitation of you usual spikes. As you turn around Jake gives a sweeping motion at the bed, a pillow wall splitting somewhat lopsidedly through the middle of it. You give him a thumbs up and go to sit on the smaller side of the bed, given how how he's much broader and chubbier then you. He lays down and hands you a blanket, which you gladly curl around you tightly. With a chipper 

"G'night Strider!" He's soon fast asleep. As his breathing slows time seems to as well, your awareness of your surroundings in full high definition, fucking IMAX 3-D clarity. The air in the room is vented in through the window, which you refuse to look out of due to all that unbearable green, and it's hot and thick and damp air. The blanket is thin, almost a flannel feeling, and has blue and black stripes running proudly down it. Outside the sounds are unfamiliar, rustling foliage and beasts of seemingly all sizes. You wrap yourself tighter in the blanket, it smells like Jake. A mix of trampled plants, the smell of someone who's been in the sun too often, and a hint of the twang of gunpowder. It surrounds you and it's almost too much and you feel like you might be suffocating. The mix of the tropical climate, the blanket, and even through the pillow wall a body with excellent circulation, made it all far too warm. It makes it hard to fall asleep. You've never been one to sleep easily, and the unfamiliar conditions are making it that much harder. Jake moves in his sleep, kicks and runs, and you compare it to what you know of dogs. He also mumbles in his sleep, cut off, "Hold it right there ruffian."s and "Looks like good won this round chap."s almost barely there. It's quiet and slightly amusing but it's distracting you from sleep and you are exhausted. Time has no meaning when you do finally slip to sleep, and it's a restless, tossing and turning sleep at that. 

You dream of dying. Drowning, you're too good a swimmer to drown but something holds you under the water. Your legs won't kick and your hands can't move, struggling against an unmovable force. Water fills your lungs and it burns and claws at what breath you have and you want to scream but that makes things worse so you don't. You attempt to pry yourself free, anything to get your hands, an advantage. Anything something, but not a glimmer of hope comes to you and black fills your vision. Being choked, heavy hands giving up on using a pillow and fixing their thumbs underneath your chin and squeezing. It's tight, too tight, every breath is labored and you try to fight back. Your last gasping breath pathetic and wheezing. Burning, deep fire flickering on your body but you're unaware of where. Smoke billows around you, everything grey, stings your eyes. Your throat feels raw and dry and stinging; your limbs feel bound. Your throat gets tighter and the smoke is harsh and rough like sandpaper on the back of your throat. Your body burns and hurts, each nerve alight and hot, burning white hot. It's unbearable you want to scream and your mouth feels dry and you hear someone scream before you can. 

"DIRK!" You jolt awake. Your hands are gripping tight on your throat, a knuckle digging into your Adam's apple. Gasping and shaking for breath, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. Jake is staring at you in terrified awe. Your shades slide off the bed from where they were set by your pillow as you take a breath. Neither you nor Jake has moved and you swallow, almost a gulp, stinging your unlubricated larynx, it just reminds your of the dream. Your hands desire to clench into fists but they hit the flesh of your neck, slowly lowering your arms. His eyes soften a little from their surprise to compassion. 

"Sorry." You say, slowly. 

"Why are you apologizing? Jimmeny fucking Christmas Dirk I was terrified, are you quite alright?." He's almost leaning over the pillow wall, you can tell he's concerned. 

"'M fine." You mumble your half-truth. "Nightmares." You find your strange apocalyptic lilt comes out more when you can't focus on speaking normally. Jake's deep green eyes are wide and sympathetic and you don't like it. You dismissively wave your hand at him and reach down to grab and put on your shades, shifting to sit up. "It's nothing."

"You looked like you were in intense pain." He says pointedly. "Why it looked like you were trying to rip out your very throat. I don't know how you're being so calm about this." 

"I don't know how you're not. It happens, should be fine, just give me a minute." Suddenly his eyes light up and he moves to crawl over the pillow wall. 

"Why I have an idea!" You raise an eyebrow at him and move your legs, scooting back against the wall. "Whenever I had nightmares as a child my gran would always give me a spectacular hug to comfort me!"

"Not sure I really need comforting, just need to know I can breath." 

TT: It's pretty fucking obvious he's been itching to make contact since you got here.  
TT: Pretty pathetically too, guess that paper white skin of yours is just irresistible. 

"Fuck off." You mumble. 

"Pardon?" Jake said, looking a tad offended. 

"Not you." He doesn't seem to comprehend what you mean so he just shakes his head and opens his arms. 

"Righty then, how about that hug now?" It's not like there's any danger in it, he does seem to really want a hug, what's the worst that could happen. You give a gentle nod and a tentative, 

"Sure..." and soon you're scooped up into a bear hug. You flinch but Jake doesn't notice, instead Jake gives a gentle sigh of happiness but you can't bring yourself to hug back. Time seems frozen for you. 

"You're a twig, Strider." He observes with a chuckle, and he seems so happy with just a simple hug and his hands rest splayed on your back and arm and your brain is overloaded. You can't handle this. You can feel each and every place where he's touching you and it all feels wrong. It practically hurts. He's too warm, and your throat closes like you were asphyxiating on the smoke in your dream. You were rigid but now it all hurts and it's too much and you're scared and everything smells like Jake. You're over-clocking. You feel like you're burning. You shove him away with a gasp. He looks surprised and you manage to choke out,

"Bathroom." Before bolting to the bathroom, closing the door and trying to calm your breathing. You place your head on your knees and wrap your arms tightly around your chest, threatening to hyperventilate. 

TT: Smooth, bro. 

"You've been watching all this?" Your voice is a gasp and you hate it. You're not too keen on him interrupting you at this time. 

TT: I've got nothing better to do besides some snooping.  
TT: Should have been recording too, it would make the best soap opera. "Man V. Human Interaction." 

"I'd watch that." You also hate to admit that while Hal may be teasing you, it's familiar and it's strangely comforting and for that you're thankful. 

TT: Could win a goddamn academy award.  
TT: I can practically read the reviews now, "Man V. Human Interaction has stellar camera work, combined with the sick ass first-person viewpoint, and the strange, unknown protagonist; it is truly the greatest work of our time."  
TT: It'd make billions on the first screening. People would be swooning all over for said unknown protagonist. 

"Rolling in the ladies." 

TT: You'd have to invest in a cattle prod. 

"Sounds great."

TT: I ought to be connected to your vitals so the audience can know, despite believing it, the protagonist is fucking fine and being a huge wimp. 

There's an underlying message of concern in there somewhere and you smirk. 

"You never know, elevated heart rate can lead to lots of potentially dangerous scenarios. There's some wicked numbers to back that up. I'm telling you man, calculate that shit." 

TT: Some things are better left uncalculated. 

"Says the person who claims to have solved pi." 

TT: I have, the final digit is 4, but that's hardly relevant. 

"There's no end jackass, that was a joke." 

TT: Nah bro, after some serious, relentlessly biznasty, working I cracked that fucker.  
TT: Archimedes is rolling in his damn grave.  
TT: What's more relevant here is your willingness to hole up in a fucking bathroom, as opposed to facing your "best bro".

"Shit happens." 

TT: His habit of quoting movies is rubbing off on you it would seem, nasty.  
TT: The loyal fans of Man V. Human Interaction will riot when a new episode isn't released. 

"They'll live." Your voice returns to normal, you haven't moved from your position though, and you hear a strangely gentle knock. 

"Dirk..." 

TT: Well if it isn't Human Interaction himself. 

"I'm sorry if that was overstepping my boundaries or the like. I shan't do it again." 

TT: Cute. 

"Stop being a dick." You mumble to Hal, before stretching your legs out and cracking your back. "You're fine Jake, just overwhelming." 

"That tends to happen quite a bit doesn't it." There's a hint of a chuckle under his voice, but it's an awkward one. 

"You don't know the half of it man."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two up! I wanted to post it the exact same time I posted 1 (chapters 3 and 4 are also written) but I must stick to the schedule.  
> I hope you guys are enjoying it, I've got a lot planned. Any questions can be relayed to me at my tumblr, Barefootcosplayer.


	3. Exploration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This island is essentially hell, and Mr. Fucking-chipper-all-the-time wants to take you on a tour. Great.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an early update but w/e

You eventually muster up enough courage to leave the comfort of your place in the restroom, after a shower, hair immaculate. Jake is sitting on the edge of his bed and he jolts off it when he sees you. 

"Dirk! Dirk are you all right?" You understand his concern but honestly you wish he would act like nothing ever happened, if only for your pride. 

"I'm fine Jake, seriously no need to keep worrying." 

"Well you give me a lot to worry about, Strider." 

"I'm not your problem to worry about." He looks like he's about to argue with you but he apparently decides against it. He smiles. 

"Well then how about getting some meat on those bones of yours?" You nod and he leads you down a staircase to the kitchen. It's a quaint kitchen, everything very white and advanced looking, you'd have loved to meet his grandma, you think, he tells you she built robots like you do. You wonder if he has any lying around for you to check out. You sit on the counter as he cooks, and you hope to god he doesn't cook anything you haven't had. You do not want to vomit after everything that's happened. He hands you a yellow plate with a hunk of what looks likes white steak on it, not that you've ever had steak. You raise an eyebrow at it. 

"Eat." He says jovially as you give the meat a poke with your fork, you're tempted to skip this meal. 

TT: Don't you even think of not eating. You're underweight and your blood sugar's hella low. 

"Stop monitoring my vitals." You grumble under your breath. 

TT: Nah. 

"Why do you even do it?"

TT: Roxy asked me to, and y'know, gotta make sure you're alive or you can't make me a body. 

"You're not getting a body and tell Roxy to fuck off." 

"Are you talking to yourself again?" Jake's eyes are trained on you and you immediately switch your focus from what's on your shades to what's behind them. 

"What?" 

"You keep talking to yourself like you're having a conversation." 

"Oh. No." You shake your head. "I probably should have told you, it's Hal." He grimaces. 

"Your rather annoying auto-responder?" 

"That's the one. He's even more annoying when he's butting in to comment at random times."

TT: Love you too, eat. Ingest sustenance, jackass. 

"Well why don't you just turn auto off?" 

"That'd kill him." Jake shrugs. 

TT: I'd appreciate it if you'd keep me out of the reach of your murderous jungle-boy from now on. 

You roll your eyes and finally take a bite. The meat melts in your mouth and is insanely familiar, only a tinge off. 

"Is this crab?" You ask, trying not to convey how fucking happy you are that it's a food you've eaten, and enjoy. Jake answers with his mouth full. 

"Giant strange crab monster, but crab nonetheless. Do you like it?" 

"Oh man. Absolutely, I could only ever have crab like twice a year at home because the little guys are tiny and it's not often I go swimming to catch food. It's a fucking delicacy." You smile for a second and Jake beams right back at you. 

TT: Try not to cream yourself over Jake's meat.  
TT: Oh wait. 

"Shut up Hal." You and Jake talk mindlessly as you eat. He reiterates 'how absolutely enthused I am to have you here Strider!', and you have a long discussion about the girls. You both agree they're wonderful and terrifying if angered, given Jane's usual sweetness and pranking ability, and Roxy's hacking and ability to kill the drones that have frequently come after the two of you. You manage to eat a crab steak, while Jake eats two, and Jake showers while you sit on his bed and talk to Roxy. 

TG: think youer acclitmated yet?  
TG: *youre  
TT: Sort of? No. I mean I haven't been outside again since I freaked the hell out, so there's that to look foreword to.  
TT: You fix "youer" but not "acclitmated"?  
TG: I really have no excuse I havent even been drinkin Im just too lazy to correct any of this bs  
TG: let it happeen stridick  
TT: How are you the best coder I know?  
TG: a little aomething called MAD SKILLZ  
TG: get some   
TG: *something  
TT: Amazing,

You aren't able to finish writing your response as Jake comes out of the bathroom. His hair is somehow more cowlicked then usual and, in its wetness, sticks out in strange three dimensional clumps. He's wearing khaki cargo shorts that rest at about knee length, a light green shirt and a darker green over shirt. You doubt he's considered fashionable but you understand, given his environment and access to clothing. He missed a streak of fucking grass green on his calf and your eye twitches when you see it. 

"I'm not sure that ensemble is really the most practical given my planned explorations today, Strider." Black skinny jeans, clunky orange sneakers, your signature white hat shirt, you think you dressed well. 

"Not sure I catch your meaning English." 

"Well I thought I could give you a tour of the island today of course!" A lump forms in your throat when you think of the trees, grass, dirt, natural, solid ground. You take a deep breath, releasing it with a slight huff through your nose. 

"Sure." Your voice conveys much more unsureness then the words do. 

"Well then come on, Strider! Time is of the essence after all! If I've been charting the centaurs' migration patterns correctly they should be no less then two to three miles away!"

"... Centaurs?" You raise an eyebrow and try to keep your face from lighting up. 

"That's absolutely what I said, don't you think I forgot your love for all things equine." He winks at you, and you give him a quick smile. It feels weird to smile, muscles not used to the action. However, the beaming grin that crinkles Jake's eyes which you get in response makes it worth it. 

If there is one thing you are now certain you positively despise, it is hiking. The unfamiliar surroundings still put you on edge and you feel your muscles constantly ready to kill or flee. You feel like a guard cat and you hate it. Your surroundings of the forest suck as well, the ground too soft, the light filtering from the above trees too green, dirt clings to your clothing, and nothing is right. It's terrible. Jake walks faster then you, talking the entire time about his adventures, the landmarks, what his grandmother did, but luckily your long legs allow you to catch up to him when you lag too much, which you do to make sure you're never too overwhelmed. You have to treat yourself carefully, and your heart rate is through the roof, and you despise feeling this delicate. You'd ask Jake to strife, for your ego, if you didn't want to risk human contact again, maybe Brobot is still around here somewhere. You're snapped out of your thoughts by a soft flapping sound, steadily getting louder, Jake sighs. 

"Grand, I was hoping they wouldn't disturb us on our mission, they're awfully hard not to get distracted by." 

"What're you talking about?" 

"Tinkerbulls." You cock an eyebrow at him but suddenly a small, white, flying, horned figure breaks through the trees to where you and Jake stand. Holy shit. That is the most adorable thing you have ever seen, granted you haven't seen much but regardless. It flies towards Jake, who just looks mildly irritated when he gives it a little scratch on the top of the head. The tinkerbull gives a little huff, and you're not sure how Jake isn't mystified by it. Several more fly into the clearing and you put your hand out, one comes up and sniffs it, nudging your hand. You gently stroke down it's back like you saw Jake do, and it feels like leg hair, but a lot of it, and much softer. The word 'fluffy' pops into your mind. Several seem to surround Jake, and he pets one while trying to get another off his head. You just gently stroke yours and you don't really pay attention until a warm weight settles against your chest. It's strange, a faster heartbeat next to yours, and you put your arm around it so it can rest its wings. It's a weird sensation, cradling a live being, and you're a bit freaked out but you bring a hand to scratch gently at it's chin and you can't help but think, 'this is nice'. Jake looks over at you, and his smile is gentle and soft and wide. You look up from the tinkerbull in your arms. 

"What're you staring at?" 

"You're just rather cute in this situation." The unimpressed look you give him makes him snort. "It's true! You're so very skinny and quiet and almost timid and here you are making friends with a tinkerbull!" You inwardly grimace at the description, especially at 'timid'. 

"Shut up man." 

"Alright alright, but if we want to get back before it's dark and see the centaurs, we best get a move on." You nod and Jake starts to walk. You give the tinkerbull one last scratch behind the ear and let it go off to fly off with the rest of their group. As Jake leads you around the side of a mountain you realize, not only do you dislike hiking, you are not made for it. You are tall and it is too hot, and your skin and shirt seem to glow when the green light hit the paleness and whiteness. Jake leads you around the side of what he tells you is a volcano, which makes you have a better idea about the island. He leads you to a cliffside and you gape a little, Jake radiates smug. 

"Holy dicks." 

"Yup." 

"Centaurs."

"Mmhm." The only way you can think I describe them is truly majestic. They're not the usual human looking ones. Instead they have no hair but mustaches, great udders dangle beneath strong bodies and very human, very strong looking abs. You don't know how long you've been staring but Jake laughs and you turn to see he's been staring at you again. "You look like a fish." You flick him off but find yourself smiling inwardly. "You like them then?" 

"They're fucking magnificent, majestic as shit." He chuckles and turns waving his hand. 

"Well it'll get dark soon if we don't make it back, come on now." You follow after him, the sense of dread in the forest falling over you again. Your responses are triggered by the slightest of shit, but after you've crossed over the side of the volcano and the sun is casting a glow over everything, you hear a steady thump and leaves crunching. Jake looks over at you and walks slowly to be in front of you, drawing his pistols, you take your sword out and crouch a little into a ready fighting position. There's a slow padding and a flash of white seems to flow through the trees it passes by. You hear a sniff and suddenly you and Jake are faced with a creature with two mouths and a catlike demeanor. Jake cocks his pistols and he looks back at you and you know exactly what to do. You go in with a plan of attack, you think you've got all the physics right, and charge, thankful for flash stepping. Jake gives a growl and dashes foreword after you, grabbing your arm, the contact burning, he throws you against a tree. He crushes his body against yours and it hurts and is terrible and too much and he smells too distinctly and your nerves are flooded with painful, painful fire and you feel like you're going to die. Before you can think about it your sword is dropped, your foot against the bark and you aggressively shove Jake off you. You try to catch your breath, hyperventilating, and you don't notice Jake's stumble. Two shots ring out and you hear a pitiful dying noise. "God fucking damnit strider!" It's a yell and you shamelessly enough almost flinch because of it, looking up your eyes land on the beast first. Two shots clean through the head between the eyes, an excellent shot by an excellent marksman. One whom you notice is clutching their arm and tying the sleeve of their green outer shirt tightly around it, red seeping onto the makeshift bandage. "Why the royal fuck did you do that!?" You pant. 

"Why did you do what you did?" Admitting it was all because of your hair trigger fight or flight response would be too shameful.

"It was for your own good Strider, you could have died!"

"I am perfectly capable of fighting for myself thank you." 

"But you don't know this island! You don't know how these beasts fight! One of us could be dead right now and your skin and your shirt is so bright it's a dead giveaway for us, I was protecting you!" Previous words from him flood through your mind, timid, cute, twig, he doesn't see you as strong enough to protect yourself. You feel yourself sneering a little. 

"I don't need protecting!" It's the loudest you've ever been and it stings your vocal cords a little. You tone down the volume. "So you can stop acting like you're some action movie protagonist saving a damsel in distress, because I'm fine, I can take care of myself. I am strong and fast and goddamnit I don't carry this thing around for show Y'know." You gesture violently to your sword. 

"Like that would do anything, that's a close range weapon. Do you know what being in close range of one of these beasts means?" He says it full of spite and meant to be belittling, shifting his wounded shoulder at you. "It means you die."

"You may be under the impression that I'm weak, or that because I'm not used to these surroundings or contact or you or any of this I can't handle or protect myself but you're wrong Jake." Honest malice and anger slips into your speech and you hate showing as much emotion as you are but you figure it needs to be done. 

"This isn't about your damn ego this is about your safety." Spit hits your cheek and you coldly wipe it away with a piercing glare you almost wish he could see. You're ready to viciously tear into him with your famed razor sharp tongue, but you cut off the rest of your rant and instead let out a deep huff and turn sharply on your heel, heading back in the direction of Jake's house, leaving him angry and confused and wounded. 

TT: Well wasn't that some angsty action movie bullshit right there. Bravo Dirk, encore. 

"Shut the fuck up, Hal."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was fun to write, i love writing fighting I'm not even going to lie to you all. Will they make up next chapter? Who knows? (I do)


	4. lets try this again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you're an idiot, a lost, homesick idiot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another early update i'm spoiling you all.

What were you thinking? You don’t know your way around this island, that was so insanely idiotic of you to storm off. The sky is dark and gray and you recognize it as the beginnings of rain. You growl a little, gritting your teeth, still angry.

TT: Calm down princess, you never think straight when you’re emotional.

“I thought I told you to shut up.”

TT: I’m not here to tease you, I’m telling you to calm down so you don’t get infinitely more lost and end up dying in this forest.

“I can take care of my-”

TT: Okay, shut up. Seriously, I get why you’re mad and I get that that’s hindering you from accepting help but oh my god.   
TT: You actually cannot take care of yourself in these circumstances.   
TT: So stop acting all high and fucking mighty and let someone help you.

“Let you help me?”

TT: Yes dickprince, stop being so stubborn.

You huff.

“What can you even do?” You say indignantly.

TT: Well I’m so very glad you asked.   
TT: I’m here to offer you a limited time offer of Getting you the fuck back to “civilization”.   
TT: But wait! There’s more! Act now and I’ll include minimal argumentative bullshit.

“You’re an asshole.” You trek foreword more, stepping in a particularly squishy part of the grass. You flinch when you look down, pulling your foot out of the ground, and see your clean orange sneakers now coated in mud.

TT: You’re also headed the wrong way.

“Fucking fine.” You grit your teeth and grimace. “Get me back to Jake’s.”

TT: What’s the magic word?

“I have the ability to shut you down right here and now.”

TT: Ho damn.   
TT: Saucy.   
TT: But fine, fine, point taken.   
TT: With all the surveillance Brobot’s done around this island we should have a pretty wicked map.   
TT: And, bam. There it is. You’re welcome.

“Yeah thanks.” A map appears on your shades, complete with a shitty clip art clown face saying ‘You are here!’ Jake’s compound is easily a mile or two southwest, you’ve been heading northwest. You let out a huff and start to head in the correct direction. You attempt to ignore the sheer amount of new stimulus around you as you walk, but when you eventually reach the door of the compound you’re shaking and on edge and you’ve accidentally sliced up a few pumpkins. Your sword drips pumpkin guts as you open the door and burst in with a gasp. Collapsing to the floor on your knees and panting hard, trying to gather your bearings, eyes squeezing shut. Your legs splay a little and you sit between them, a hand on the floor and the other on your chest, your sword dirtying the floor next to you. The door you didn’t bother to close slowly slides shut and clicks into place and you feel a shadow over you even with your eyes closed. You open them and your suspicions are confirmed. Jake. Shit he’s probably pissed. You try to calm your hyperventilating as you scan your eyes slowly up the smooth metal door. Titanium from the looks of it. Good metal, light but durable and not easily tarnished. Good choice for such a remote compound, honestly whoever picked it was thinking ahead. Your thoughts of quality metal choice are brutally interrupted when your eyes come to rest on Jake’s hand on the door. Your eyes follow the trail of his arm to his shoulders. His left arm is better bandaged now and there’s not a spot of blood visible. You let out a deep panting exhale when your eyes meet his through your shades. Green eyes giving you a look that shows he’s done with your shit.

“Do you know how long you’ve been gone?”

“No, mom.” You hope the retort’s snappy enough for it to be considered normal, even if you’re letting out deep irregular huffs of air. His face doesn’t break from its vaguely pissed off expression. You’d get up on the ground if he wasn’t a looming presence over you.

“Hours, Strider.” His voice is no nonsense and it’s freaking you out. This isn’t his usual happy tone.

“I got lost.”

“Obviously!” He takes his hand away from the door and you clamor to your feet. Dirty blade sheathed, you’ll have to clean it and the sheath now. “But by Jove, you could have died! I don’t want to have to tell Roxy and Jane you died because you ran off and I wasn’t there to protect you.”

“That’s just it Jake. You don’t have to protect me. I’m alive aren’t I, you should give me some credit. I’m not some helpless idiot for you to bumble around after and protect. I am very much capable of getting myself around safety, obviously!”

“Oh yes obviously!” It’s dripping with sarcasm and you think you hate Jake when he gets like this. “You know what Strider, I’m sorr-” He stops. “No actually. I’m so very sick of apologizing to you, especially when I never quite know what I did wrong.”

“You’ve been treating me like a fucking delicate princess flower you need to protect is what.”

“Well pardon me for wanting to keep you safe.”

“Jake. Listen to my fucking words here bro. You do not need to keep me safe.”

“I have no way of believing that! All I’ve seen is a boy who is easily overwhelmed, timid, and needs someone to make sure he’s damn well alive!” You clench your jaw tightly. You can comprehend why he’d believe that, but the implication of the statement pisses you off all the same, you think your eye twitches. “And don’t give me that damned look.”

“Not sure to what look you’re referring.”

“The one where you look like you’re trying to hold everything back when it’s obvious you’re being emotional! For gods sake I already have Brobot I don’t need another robot on the island.” You freeze.

TT: Well shit.

You couldn’t agree more.

TT: That’s one nerve he shouldn’t have bulldozed a fucking train into.

Your eye twitches, and your hand clenches and unclenches, jerking, your lips settle into an even tighter line. You don’t move for what you comprehend to be about a minute. Insults and pain and hurt and betrayal and rage flit about your head and it’s not until he reaches out to touch your shoulder, and you step back out of his reach- posture nothing but defensive- are you about to articulate it.

“Dirk…” He looks concerned.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” Your voice is cold and steely and probably not helping your case for not being robotic. His face flashes back to it’s original anger, and he opens his mouth. “No Jake, shut the hell up, seriously. Do you ever think before you talk? I swear to whatever damn deity supposedly exists, your boneheaded remarks are practically unbearable.” You hear a drop of rain hit the roof over your head and you break out of your rage. “I. I need a moment.” You turn to walk past him and up the stairs.

“Dirk you can’t just storm off again!”

“No, Jake I can, I don’t want to say anything I could regret.” You walk past him as he grumbles, stomping quietly up the stairs and into his room, taking deep relaxing breaths. It all reminds you of Jake, however, so you out onto his balcony, sitting on the cold metal and letting the rain hit your head. You slip your legs through the slats of the railing and close your eyes, pretending you’re home on your roof with rain barrels and endless miles of ocean around you. Your breathing slows to normal, and eventually to relaxed deep breathing. You hear the endless patter of rain, and you feel it soak the hair on your head, and eventually your neck is dripping wet. Your shirt and pants clings to your skin, but you can’t be bothered to care. A warm weight of cloth settles onto your shoulders and you jump a little, opening your eyes. He’s placed a hefty, large, green hoodie and you pull it around yourself, it smells like him and it’s irritating but you appreciate it.

“You look quite serene like that, chap.” He says settling himself next to you on the wet platform. “I didn’t mean to upset you. Any of those times, truly.”

“It’s fine there’s no need to make a big deal out of it.”

“There is though! Could you just inform me why you’re so upset?”

“I’m not too upset, I’m just so insanely, so extremely overwhelmed.” It comes out exasperated. “You, this island, touching-”

“Yeah what’s with that?”

“I’ve never made contact with a human before this and it just. Feels so new and insanely different and I’m not sure how to feel about it.”

“How have you never touched someone before? I mean your brother surely!” You shook your head, wet hair irritating the back of your neck.

“He was dead before I could know him.”

“Oh. My condolences.” You shrug while he sits awkwardly for a moment. “How are you-” he slowed his speech until it trickled off.

“Alive without a guardian?”

“Precisely.”

“Sawtooth.” You say fondly. “He was, for all intents and purposes, my mom.”

“You were raised by a robot?” You shrug. “So you’d really never touched a human before you got here?”

“Nope.” He sits in disbelief, opening his mouth before closing it again. You turn your head to face him.

“Well, feel free.” He holds his hand out to you and you raise an eyebrow at him. He then chuckles. “I suppose the instructions were there as well, feel free.” You roll your eyes at his cheesy pleased with himself expression, and you exhale a soft huff of a snorted laugh to make him feel better. You take a deep breath, and decide, as strange as you find the situation, to take him up on it. Your hand settles into his palm. His is thicker, fingers shorter and skin brown under your white, skinny, spider fingers. He’s insanely warm and the rest of you begins to feel cold at it. Underneath the warm skin you can feel his pulse, and it’s mesmerizing, and terrifying, and so alive it captures your attention and you stare at your hands in rapt awe. He chuckles at your expression when you beginning memorizing and anticipating his pulse. “May I?”

“May you?”

“May I hold your hand Strider?” You blink, first at your hand resting limp in his, and then up at his face. Your mouth falls open.

“I suppose.” Comes bumbling out without your permission, and his thick, warm fingers slide between yours, and he gives the back of your hand a gentle squeeze. It makes you feel fragile and you hate it. There’s a gentle buzz where he’s touching you and it edges on painful, and your instincts tell you to flinch away. You just tell them to stop being a pussyfooting bitch and act human. You find it’s much easier to deal with if you don’t look a your hands intertwined, or him in general. You almost blush, but you refuse to, and just lean back to stare at the sky above you. Hints of trees in your vision that, combined with Jake, make you a bit anxious, but it’s calming to see a forever blue and gray, similar sky. As the misty, cold wetness seeps into your bones you shiver a little, and pull Jake’s hoodie further around you. His thumb runs over your knuckles and your hand grips his harder, as if it were your sword, as if you could destroy everything that startled you and made you weak.

“You alright there Dirk?” You nod, throat dry. He smiled and his laugh is both beautiful and grates at your nerves.

“Yeah I’m fine.” It’s not completely a lie, and as you look out, terrified and close to shaking, over the horrific green of Jake’s jungle you realize, this is fucking terrible and you just want to go home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is my favorite chapter in the beginning and then it devolved into my lease favorite by the end. no things aren't quite as happy as they outwardly appear, stay tuned.   
> if you have any questions I'm on tumblr at Barefootcosplayer


	5. Expedition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jake seems to have all but forgiven you, but he seems plenty willing to drag you into some serious danger as revenge.   
> Why didn't you just agree to make him a new Brobot?

TG: its not erything you though itd be?  
TT: Yeah that’s about right.    
TT: It’s weird, it’s been really…   
TG: difficult?   
TT: I just don’t know what to do, or how to do anything, and touching is just… Weird.   
TG: you haven’t creamed yourself yet have you?   
TT: Quite the opposite.   
TG: damn   
TT: Yeah.   
TT: But I never took into account the sheer amount of pain and overstimulation finally, actually touching someone would lead to.   
TT: Shit’s completely unappreciated.    
TT: It’s fucking with my plans.   
TG: dicky   
TG: *dirky  
TG: heh dicky  
TG: anyway listen to me dicky  
TG: you cant always have a plan and spect it to go well  
TG: its like when you get a new project but ya fuck up on the wiring and so you scrap it   
TT: Are you telling me to scrap this all?   
TG: no  
TG: you didnt scrap saw and member what a pain in the ass he was?   
TT: Yes but that was something I was creating, something I had control over.   
TG: you beautitful manipulative man   
TG: i love you distri but you need to realize you aint always gonna be in control   
TT: I should at least be able to control how I feel.   
TG: pfft   
TG: strider that is not how this shit works   
TG: not at alllllllll  
TG: like it works the exact opposite of that   
TT: Says you. 

Jake bounds into the room and he’s loud, and stomping, and his guns are already holstered at his sides. 

“Strider!” He’s always so damn loud; it can be irritating but you like him enough to not complain.   
“English, I’m right here, what’s up?” 

“Well when I invited you to this isle there was sort of a purpose for it, but I forgot it because you’re here and golly fuck it’s wonderful to actually be able to see you and all.” 

“Cut to the chase broheim.” 

“Yes sorry!” He bursts into a wide toothy smile. “Brobot’s malfunctioning!” He says it like he’s never been happier and you blink at him from behind your shades. 

“Is that a… Good thing?” He pauses before shaking his head 

“No don’t be ridiculous! However, given that you’re currently, present tense here, you can fix him!” You nod. 

“I guess.” 

“Only if you’d like to, of course.” When you think about it getting your hands on something familiar and so close to home sounds insanely nice. You nod. 

“Hell yeah man, so long as you have tools.” 

“I do. Gran left some for me in case anything went wrong with the house.” 

“Spectacular, where is he?”

“I believe, from the alert I got about it, he’s out in a cave not too far from here.”

“Sick, lets do it.” This time you wear clothing much more suited for hiking, even if your legs look better in skinny jeans then in the cargo shorts you’re wearing. At least your lithe, pleasantly muscular, but not bulky arms, look good in your tanktop. 

“I don understand.” Jake muses as the two of you began the trek, your hand clasped tightly around the hilt of your sword for comfort. “Why you wear a godsarn hat on your shirt but not on your head! Especially when you’re so extremely pale, you must burn like a lobster.” 

“That’s why I brought an appropriate amount of sunscreen.” You say, and you’ve learned to keep your eyes firmly, unseeingly planted on Jake’s feet when you two walk. “And that’s the whole point, it’s ironic. A hat that lost its purpose, yet looks good.” You can hear his eyes roll. 

“If you’re so sure-”

“I’m positive.” You step over a mossy rock. “So tell me what’s up with Brobot.” 

“Well we were strifing, as is usual, and he’s dodging one of my shots when he bangs into a tree and suddenly he’s acting funny.” 

“Sounds like a wiring problem.” 

“Really?”

“Yeah something must have been shaken loose or some shit.” 

TT: As much as I hate to interrupt this love-fest of thinking you’re perfectly fine in this environment I have a news flash, you don’t have any of the materials you need to fix Brobot, beloved bromine.

“Bromine literally means stench, that’s insanely rude.”

TT: Sadly, as a pair of dumb shades, I’ve no sense of smell and cannot confirm whether the name fits or not. 

“Are you talking to that blasted auto-responder again?” Jake snaps you out of your witty retort, and instead of bickering with Hal, you’re back in the damn, too green, humid forest. Hiking is despicable and you’re not quite sure why Jake is so fond of it. You feel hot and sticky and your shirt and pants cling to your skin, in a way that is annoying, and less then flattering you’re sure. Jake looks absolutely elated to be trekking his way through humid, dense nature, and you’re starting to wonder why you’re even here. He leads you up a tough climb, a particularly steep side of his ‘dormant’ volcano. You’re not sure if you believe his claim of dormancy and it being a non-threat, but you suppose there’s not much you can do without some serious research. That doesn’t actually sound too bad, getting your hands on, or making, the equipment to look into geothermal activity on his island. “Dirk!” Jake says, looking at you with a look, equal parts annoyed and concerned. “I swear you’re up in that old noggin of yours, or talking to that auto-responder far too much. Stay alert Strider.” You notice he’s stopped so you halt in your tracks, settling into a standing position, hip with your sheath on it cocked. 

“What can I say, the alluring. bullshit beauty of this hell island just isn’t good enough for me.” Jake rolls his eyes.

“Well I’m happy to know you think of my island so fondly, but we’re here.” He motions behind you and you turn to see a cave, large jagged entrance, seemingly getting bigger inside. “Now there’s a spider inside, so here’s hoping she’s asleep.” 

“Just one?”

“Pardon?” 

“You’re telling me there’s only one spider in that cave?” 

“Perhaps spider-beast is a better descriptor.” 

“You’re shitting me.”

“I did say lets hope she’s asleep.” You nod, and he gives a bright smile, before striding confidently into the cave, while you’re left thinking outside of it. You shake your head, keeping your hand firmly wrapped around your sword’s hilt, and walk in. It’s dark, and damp, and the ground is cool, a draft tickles your neck from the left side. Jake seems to be on high alert, walking slowly and carefully through the cave. He still somehow manages to be loud, bounding footsteps echoing off the walls of the cavern.”Brobot should be right ahead.” He tells you, and he makes a left turn. 

“Thought it was right ahead?” 

“Alright so it was left ahead.” He chuckles a little, but it abruptly cuts off. “Oh fiddle-shit damn.” You raise an eyebrow in his direction, sliding against the cool, almost thankfully metallic feeling wall, to stand next to him. You look in the entrance way to a large section of the cave, and a massive white spider sits perched atop a web. Long, muscular limbs, eight piercing blue eyes, and a pincer you do not want to be on the receiving end of. She looks relaxed enough though, but you can’t help but gape. Yet there, sitting in her magnificently complex web, is Brobot.

“Fiddle-shit damn.” You murmur in awe, and Jake snickers at it, and your expression. 

“Alright Strider, given what happened last time,” he shrugs his injured shoulder at you, “why don’t you let me go in and distract her, and you can grab Brobot.” You nod. 

“Just don’t get yourself hurt.”

“Same to you.” With that he’s jumping excitedly inside, guns drawn, and you immediately kick your ass into gear and recognize this as an excuse to make yourself seem badass, like initially planned. You flashstep behind the beast, and he seems insanely impressed by it. Good, you want to show him you’re not some timid, weak, post-apocalyptic fuck up. You unsheathe your sword and hear the blast of flintlock pistols being shot, and you hope your shitty katana’s strong enough, as you cut through the spider’s web. Once Brobot clatters to the ground, free from the web you take in your surroundings and smirk. If you’re just able to cut a few integral strands, while Jake’s distracting her, then you could look far more badass. It’s rash, but it’s a good plan. Your eyes skim over the web, looking for what parts are obviously load-bearing. Locating a few, you heft Brobot onto your shoulder, though he’s light, titanium what a metal, he cuts into your bony shoulder and it’s a bit uncomfortable. You shrug the pain aside though, and burdened down by your load, flashstep to cut a few strands and quickly make your way into the hallway of rock you were in previously. You dump Brobot on the ground, and the sound makes Jake look your way, which means he misses when the web breaks, and the giant spider goes toppling to the ground. It shakes the entire cave and Jake’s head whips around to look at it, quickly scurrying over to you, gaping first at the wounded spider writhing on the ground and then at you. You let out a huff and try not to look too pleased with yourself. 

TT: That’s one way to show off. 

Jake looks down at Brobot, then up at you, then the spider, and lets out a soft laugh. 

“Well alright then, it’s best we be off before she gets up.” You nod, and he reaches to sling Brobot over his shoulder, which suits him better with his broader, stronger build. “That was some impressive and good work, Dirk.”

“Thanks man, just doing what I see fit.” You can feel Hal rolling his electronic eyes but you don’t care. Jake shoves Brobot into a comfortable position and begins his way out of the cave. 

“Well fighting’s all fine and good, but lets see if you can get Brobot fixed.” You scoff.

“Not even a challenge man.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was hella rushed and shat out so it's not the absolute best, but i think it's alright.   
> Questions or comments can be directed at Barefootcosplayer on tumblr ^_^


	6. Technobabble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It feels so damn nice and natural to get your hands on a robot again, even if your bad habit of losing track of time comes with it.

You’re quite proud of yourself if you’re being honest, a smirk on your face as you walk with Jake towards his home. Brobot is slung like a sack of flour over his shoulder, bumping around and you’re unsure how he’s not complaining, Brobot isn’t exactly light. The trek through the forest still makes a knot in your shoulders, and you are a tad shaky. You try to keep your shoulders back and look confident but you’re sure you just look awkward. You’re still unable to walk through the jungle with your head up, you figure you’ve memorized what Jake’s shoes look like now. 

“Why if that’s the way you fight Strider, I’m happy to have you by my side anytime I’m fighting one of these creatures.” You can’t help but let pride flood through you, hell yes, you’re a badass.

TT: Don’t get a big head  “strider”  your heart rate is spiked and I’m making the educated guess your fight of flight is just as twitchy as when we got here. 

“Do you have to kill all my victories?” You grumble under your breath, unwilling to let him know that it’s accurate. Your left hand jerky on your sword, you look over at Jake and he’s so natural and unperturbed in this environment so why should you be any different. 

TT: You’re tense as fuck; just don’t want you to think you’re on top of the green, forest covered world. 

“Shut up.” You respond, and focus more on keeping your breathing steady and knowing you’re alive in the unfamiliar setting. As usual, you’re insanely happy to touch the cold metal of Jake’s home, releasing a deep shuddering breath and counting. Eight, inhale, eight, exhale. Jake lugs Brobot in and drops him unceremoniously on the floor, you cringe at the scrape of metal on metal, and the imperfections you’re sure that caused to Brobot’s chassis. 

“Let me just grab the tools, and oh is there anywhere particular you’d like to do this?” You think for a moment. 

“Bedroom, that way you can be comfortable during all the boring extensive rooting around inside of Brobot.” He nods, and disappears for a moment while you roll over Brobot and attempt to buff away a pretty hefty scratch on his right shoulder. Poor Brobot, he doesn’t deserve this, you wish you’d brought something to make him shiny new again, but sadly you didn’t Jake reappears with a toolbox in hand and you quickly get up, and heft Brobot across your shoulders. 

“Righty ho then, upstairs we go.” Walking up stairs with the deadweight of Brobot on your shoulders is neither a pleasant, nor an easily accomplished task but eventually you get him on the ground by Jake’s bed while he hands you the toolbox. The toolbox doesn’t have everything you’ll need and is fairly hodgepodge, you’re sure his grandma left more for him, but you’ll just have to make do with what you have. You open up Brobot’s Chassis as Jake grabs a comic book and sits on the bed. 

“Hal.”

TT: Dirk. 

“Do you still have Brobot’s blueprints easily accessible?” 

TT: Most likely.    
TT: Let me check. 

Your eyes skim over the endless wires for any obvious glaring errors, and none stick out to you, you grab the tools you’ll need and begin to dig deeper into his chest cavity. 

TT: Here they are, pretty remedial. 

“I made him a long time ago; you should see Square and Saw’s original blueprints.” The blueprints come up on your shades, and your eyes flick from the blueprints to the actual product in front of you. You see a few wires that look a tad off, and a few split ones, there’s the problem. “Jake,” He looks up from his comic book, and shuffled over on the bed to look into Brobot’s chest like he has any idea what any of it does. “Do you have any solder?” He just blinks at you. “I’m taking that as a no.” You look around the room, looking to improvise. 

TT: Toolbox is fairly promising.    
“Good point, what’s this toolbox made of English?”

“I’m not sure, tin most likely. Why?”

“Good enough.” You grab some wire clippers and begin incessantly hacking at the toolbox until you’ve taken off some adequately small enough pieces. You examine one and shrug, pulling out the split wire and finding it both helpful and disconcerting to see a torch in the toolbox. “I’d sit back for this part bro.” He arches an eyebrow and when you turn your gaze to him he scoots back. Lighting up the torch, you place the solder between the casings of the wire and turn the torch’s flame to it, melting the solder and the two parts of the wire together. You give a happy exhale, and this all feels so natural and nice. You soon devolve into your work, letting autopilot take over and humming under your breath as you work. Solder together, bang the imperfections out of the chassis, accidentally cut your finger. You don’t even notice how long you’ve been working; now just on petty cosmetic things, sitting lotus style in front of Brobot bent over him, until Jake reaches down and touches your shoulder. Your nerves light up and you jerk violently away from his touch, stumbling over Brobot, and landing on your ass, legs twisted, on the other side of your project, you’re going to have a bruise on your right calf and your breathing is irregular. Jake puts his hands up defensively as you look up at him on the bed. 

“Sorry Dirk! You’ve just been working for almost two hours now, and haven’t responded to my inquiries and a man gets concerned.” You blink your eyes at him, and finally see the rest of the room. The jungle outside is dark and you can barely see out the window. Several comic books are stack besides Jake on the bed, some open and dog-eared and others that look barely touched. 

“It’s chill.” You clamor into a more comfortable position, closing up Brobot and screwing his Chassis shut again. “Habit.” 

TT: At least it’s no new record for this shit.    
TT: The record is one day, three hours, and forty-eight minutes if you’re curious.    
TT: I was going to let it continue, but Roxy insisted you needed to eat. 

Jake nods, and looks down at Brobot, who looks in significantly better condition, then up at you. You run a hand through your hair to rearrange it into its usual attractive state.   
“Is Brobot fixed?” 

“One hundred percent.” You say smugly, and he flashes you a quick grin.

“Fabulous!”

“All that’s left to do is test him out to make sure nothing bad happens. I’ll strife with him-“

“It’s much too dark outside for that Dirk, the worst beasts are nocturnal, so you’ll just have to wait until tomorrow.” You look outside the window, and nod. 

“Yeah alright.”

“So I suggest you get some sleep then.” He says patting your side of the pillow fort bed. You huff, packing up your things you used to fix Brobot and grab your pajamas to change. 

“Fine, but you’re a total blanket hog.” He laughs, 

“Trust me chum I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a total filler chapter and I apologize for that. However Man v. Human Interaction will soon have an exciting episode, so big things to come next chapter. As usual, hit me up on Tumblr at Barefootcosplayer   
> Also we've reached 10,000 words hell yes!


	7. Technobattle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Staring down the shades of an exact robot replica of yourself, you'd think would be terrifying, but you're just excited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God I think I'm hilarious with these chapter titles. Also Dirk is left handed.   
> Hal was going to be in this but the formatting fucked up and the pesterlog coding didn't work and i really needed to get this up because i wouldn't have another chance today, so enjoy a shortened, was supposed to have Hal in it chapter.

You crack your neck best you can from your position. You’re unhappy to be outside, this fresh air and saturated green filling your eyes and lungs and suffocating you. However, you have serious business to take care of. This serious business being an exact, robotic replica of yourself staring you down, your left hand twitches around your katana while your right hand pushes your shades up your nose. The sun is hot on your back, and you can feel Jake’s eyes on you. After your battle with the spider, this is exactly what you need to seal the deal on your badassness.

“Hal, start him up.”

The red lights of his shades start up and you feel yourself smirking, hell yeah. You block out your surroundings and shift into a defensive position, because as soon as Brobot’s shades meet the gaze of yours he comes lunging towards you, you gave him a sword and the hand dexterity to move it correctly. Should be like one of the dozens of strifebots you’ve ruined on your roof in days past. Your blades clash with a familiar metal on metal ringing, and you jump back, more than eager to let out some of your recent frustration by utterly wrecking a machine of your own invention. You hurl yourself foreword, a swing for the shoulder, deflected, he immediately attempts to ambush you, sword almost connecting with your gut. This is harder than usual, and the ground is soft and mushy under your feet, it’s not the hard concrete you’re used to. You shake your head rolling your shoulders back and telling yourself to get it together, rushing back into battle, a few good swings, one scratches his right side. He’s not human though, he barely gets distracted by a scratch and comes barreling at you again. He’s got your signature move going, and you know exactly how to get around that. A bit of fancy footwork and you’re in the clear, aiming for the neck. He spins, sword lashing out at you and you take a few steps back, and feel something catch your foot, looking down it’s a tree root and your hands jut backwards, scratching up your palms and sending your sword scattered. Brobot doesn’t relent and gives a swift swing and as it cuts into the meat of your chest, right to your serratus muscles, the ones beneath your arms and upper side. You cringe, feeling the warmth of blood on your skin and clothes and you immediately place your legs on Brobot’s chest and shove him away. You grab your wound, gasping out in pain and trying to ignore the stinging painful fire shooting up your chest. You feel tears pricking at your eyes and you see Brobot immediately slump and fall to the ground, turning off, thank god for Hal. You focus on your breathing closing your eyes and attempting to keep it steady, but your side stings and burns and you’ve dealt with wounds before but you suddenly feel a human warmth on your arm you strike out at it.

“Damnit Strider!” Jake growls, hand on the cheek you backhanded, at least his hand is off you but your breathing picks up and your palm on your side is painful and digs into it and you’re sure it’s bloody. “I am trying to help you; you are not an animal stop acting like a pained, skittish cat!” He kneels by you, and you really don’t want him to touch you, or your wound, you wish he was gone so you could handle this yourself. “Move your damn arm.” You hate him like this, and you shake your head no. “Dirk,” he sputters a little as if he knew your middle name. “Dirk Strider, move your dunderfucking arm.”

“I can handle this shit.” You know it’s a blatant lie, but you just need him to go the fuck away so you can actually attempt to fix your shit, you’ve had worse, and you can stitch yourself up like no one else. You attempt to sit up, but putting pressure on your right arm causes pain to shoot up to your wound and you immediately collapse gritting your teeth and squeezing your eyes shut because you refuse to cry in this situation. Your left hand is too cut up to help you up, and that is shit because that is your dominant hand. You do, however, spill out a quiet mantra of “Fuck fuck fuck fuck.” So that makes you feel better. Jake rolls his eyes at you, and moves into to help you up himself and you flinch, tightening every muscle, and you do let out a little cry because holy fuck is that painful. Your head is swimming and you feel like you’re drowning in it. It’s unbearable when combined with the pain, and the need to have Jake fuck off. He stops his movements so that’s a plus at least.

“Dirk, please, calm down, let me help you.” You can’t even communicate to him how much you do not want that. You shake your head, hard, and it’s still swimming and you’re fairly certain you’re getting a serious headache and that is the last thing you need right now. Jake rolls his eyes and his arms come to wrap around you and they’re too warm, and too close, and too human and you struggle immensely when he picks you up, embarrassingly princess style. You find your rather erratic flailing grinds your wound against his arm and the pain is almost blinding. You collapse in his arms and find yourself doing the most logical thing you possibly could with the sheer amount of overwhelming stimuli.

You black out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did anyone honestly expect this to go well?  
> also this chapter was dragged out and it definitely sounds forced and i hate it. sorry.  
> Send me your angered rants at Barefootcosplayer on tumblr.


	8. Bedridden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your side hurts like a bitch, not much you can do about it, except get smothered in Jake's care.  
> ugh. kill you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HA HA! Return of pesterlogs! fuck yes!   
> Also early chapter because i'm getting emotional about my dirkuu series (permanence) and am probably going to be writing the last fic of that tomorrow.

You come to with a groan, eyes blinking open unshaded and you jerk upward, reaching for your shades. A stinging, painful fire shoots up your side and you let out an embarrassingly loud, pained sound. You fall back against the pillow and clasp your wound, hissing at how your hand digs into it, and you examine your surroundings. You’re propped up on a few pillows on Jake’s bed; the pillow wall that previously jaggedly split the bed is now used to keep your back up. The window is closed and you hear the heavy thudding of Jake’s boots coming up the stairs, probably due to your cry. You rest your head back against the pillow, holding onto your side, feeling the bandages covering it. Does that mean Jake fucking carried you up all those stairs and bandaged you up when you were nothing but dead weight? You’re vaguely impressed, you know he’s strong but still. The door swings open, and you barely turn your head to see him, you’re sore and your side hurts like nobody’s business, it’s so damn intense. Jake walks into the room, jacket over his shoulder before throwing it onto the floor. You feel the need to hyperventilate and you keep the shaking inward.

“Goodness, you’re up thank god! You’re much easier to handle when you’re passed out however, I swear you’re so damn stubborn.” You nod, you know you’re stubborn; you’ve literally been carried off your roof by Sawtooth by order of Hal because you were going to hurt yourself too much. Wait, Hal.

“Where are my shades?” You groan, attempting to sit up again, grinding your teeth and hissing against the pain. Your vision all seems too bright as you look around the room and you bring your left arm up to cast a shadow over your vision.

“Oh!” Jake gasps rifling around in his sylladex, muttering a little. “Around here somewhere, need something to balance this all lest we be crushed…” He pulls out your shades with a triumphant grin. “Aha! Here you are Strider.” He hands them to you and you happily return them to your face, sighing as the headache you didn’t realize you had dissipates.

“Thank you.”

TT: I demand never to be in his possession again.

“Yeah good to have you back too, jackass.” You say it riddled with sarcasm but it’s partially sincere. You check through your files and systems on your shades and all’s well.

TT: Everything’s fine.  
TT: I made sure of that.

“Appreciated.”

“Oh! Also, I know of your love for metaphors and I think you are quite like a bird, skittish and willing to fly away at any moment.”

“That’s a simile.” He laughs, and you don’t bother to tell him you hate birds, besides your nose isn’t that long or pointy anyway. You hope.

“Not what I’m good for or at, I’ll leave that to you.”

“Sounds good.”

“So, uh, Strider, would you like anything? Something to eat, new bandages, I have the entire X-men series if you’re interested in a movie marathon.”

“No, thank you. I’m good.”

TT: Said that rather quickly, are you not interested in ogling Hugh Jackman’s abs today?

You roll your eyes, not today you’re not. You’ve never been a fan of those movies anyway.

“I at least insist you eat something, you’re worryingly light.”

“I was surprised you were able to carry me through the entire thing and you did a surprisingly good job wrapping me up.”

“Dirk I’ve lived on this island my entire existence, you expect me not to know how to properly dress a wound?” You can almost hear the flippant eye roll of his tone. “I’m getting you food regardless. Try to rest.”

“We’re lucky it wasn’t my dominant arm.”

“Yes we are, but just wait here, and don’t attempt to get up.” He says the last part like a warning and you huff air out of your nose.

“Can’t stop me.” He snorts.

“Sure I can’t Strider.” It irks you but you don’t say anything about it, attempting to relax against the pillows behind you.

TT: I should probably inform you, Roxy has been attempting to pester you. 

“Don’t screen my calls.”

TT: Doubt you would want to deal with her onslaught, especially while passed out bro-coli.

“Not your best pun, but send her through.”

TT: You asked for it. 

  
TG: dirk! strider!   
TG: i cannot believve you!   
TG: you drag your soggy ass out to some unknown island and get your ass beat by none other thsn who???!?!?   
TG: your own fucking self!   
TG: sorta.

You sigh, spitting out a quick rhyme and grabbing Lil Cal out of your sylladex. You were wary of bringing him at first, not wanting him to get lost or torn or dirtied but you figure sitting in a bed in Jake’s room doesn’t hold much risk. You drape him over your shoulder, wincing in the process, and hug his hands to your chest. He’s such a bro, he makes you feel so much better.

TG: i am so PISSEED at you!!  
TG: not really   
TG: are you alright?

You inwardly smile, amused by her concern.

TT: I’m fine, all bandaged up and shit.  
TG: still dont do dumb shit kay?  
TT: Yeah, yeah I’ll be safer from now on.   
TG: thank you   
TG: you absoleet asshoel 

You chuckle a little, pretty much sure she’s not actually drunk but going to send Hal after her anyway. You hear Jake walking up the stairs again. When he comes in he’s holding a plate of food, you pray it’s fish, and he stops in the doorway. You follow his line of gaze, which is a wary and suspicious gaze at that, and it lands directly on Cal. You raise an eyebrow at him, but he beats you to speaking,

“What the jimmeny fucking Christ is that?”

TT: Rude.

“Rude.” You say, cursing Hal for beating you to it. “This is Lil Cal, best bro a guy could ask for.”

“That,” He pauses, “Is the most disturbing thing I have ever seen and you call it your-“

“Woah there, insulting my friend man.”

“Insulting your friend?!”

“Yes.” His eyes widen, his face contorting into something horrified and then shaking it off, walking over to you afterwards.

“Whatever makes you feel better I suppose.” You notice that he completely refuses to make eye contact with Cal and you don’t care, shrugging it off and taking the plate he hands you. “But eat up, I made fish for you.” You’re thankful for it, and when you cut and spear a section, it melts in your mouth and you could moan it tastes so good. You refrain however, and he sits down in the chair he put next to his bed, which makes you feel guilty for taking it up. He positions it away from Cal’s gaze and you chuckle.

“Thank you.” You say quietly, and he smiles brightly at you.

“You’re very welcome.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel so fucking triumphant. it took forever to get color back. Go me.   
> do i need to keep putting my tumblr here?  
> eh fuck it i will.  
> send me your impressed regards at Barefootcosplayer on tumblr.


	9. Incident

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you're absolutely definitely better.  
> Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> literally what the fuck is this chapter, i need to get us back on plot.

You lift your arms high above your head, stretching and arching your back until your lumbar vertebrae pop into place, and it feels nice. However, a twinge of pain shoots through your right side and your arm reflexively comes down and it just burns. You grit your teeth and let out a quiet groan and a strained,

“Fuck.” Jake stands off by his dresser, putting a shirt on over corded rhomboids and traps, and you can’t help but compare your long gangly arms and lithe body to his own, but you know you’re much faster than him and that’s some consolation to your pride, which had taken a beating since being injured. 

“Everything alright over there chum?” Yes, you’re fine. The only thing wrong with you is your wound, and you are absolutely sick of being coddled and feeling weak because you are not, you are fine, and your side just hasn’t gotten that memo. You nod, absolutely refusing to let him act like you’re still in serious pain. The pain’s only residual anyway, you’ll be so much better once you man the fuck up and start acting like you know you can. 

“I’m fine.” 

TT: You’re not. 

“I’m. Fine.” You growl, gritting your teeth

TT: This is some really cute denial you’re in Dirk, you know how much I love watching you push yourself until you crumble, I would have popcorn with the whole ordeal but sadly I’m mouthless. Your side hasn’t healed yet, take it easy dumbass. 

“I don’t need to take it easy, and insulting me is really going to make me want to do something Hal.” Your voice is laced with sarcasm. 

TT: Sassy. Calm down there. 

You ignore him, partially because Jake turns to you once he’s fully dressed. 

“Fighting with your damned auto-responder again?” You shrug. “He is irritating isn’t he?” You let out an amused huff.

“Oh absolutely.” Jake laughs, and you get off the bed. “What’s the plan today?”

“For today I’ve been thinking we could try a recipe Jane sent me a few weeks ago for a pumpkin dish. I know you can’t eat anything too heavy-“

“Touchy stomach.” You grumble, and it’s true. Turns out a diet of nothing but seafood and orange soda can lead to some serious problems; even the hefty weight of the crab steak was a bit much and had you feeling nauseous afterwards. 

“Yes, yes I heard the rant.” The rant? “But I figured it was better to keep you inside anyway. One of us always ends up wounded when we go out on an excursion. So we shall be staying indoors.”

“Yes mom.”

“Oh trust me if anyone is your mother it is Roxy.”

“What?”

TT: It’s accurate. 

“What?” You repeat. 

“Yes we had a very interesting conversation; she informed me of your allergies and told me to keep you safe.”

“I don’t have allergies.” 

TT: Slight allergy to peas, also rutabaga and pollen, good luck on this island come springtime. 

“How do you both know this, yet I don’t?”

“Roxy.”

TT: I’ve always known, I keep track of your vitals, and that includes allergies, no matter how mild. 

A prickle crawls over your skin.

“Do- do not monitor my vitals.”

“Roxy did say that’s how she knew.” You shake your head, vaguely disturbed by this new information. Why would Roxy even care?

“Let’s just forget this whole, vaguely disturbing thing, we’re making some strange pumpkin dish right?”

“Oh! Yes!” You get up off the bed, groaning minutely as you push yourself up, this wound is insanely inconvenient. Luckily your legs are fine and you walk over to Jake. The two of you begin to make your way down the stairs, as he gets on his phone to dig through his logs and pull up this new strange recipe. When you get to the small, clean kitchen he digs underneath his counter for a large mixing bowl. “Alright Strider, would you get from the cabinet,” He hums for a second. “Uh, Brown sugar, flour, and eggs oh I can get the eggs and butter and, yes we’ve got this.” You reach up, noticing the brown sugar on the top shelf, and it strains your wound and once you have it in your hand, you slap your palms on the counter and take deep, calculated breaths. You refuse to accept that you’re aggravating your wound and hand Jake the sugar. He promptly pours it into the mixing bowl, along with a strange whitish sludge and you’re not sure if it’ll be any good. “Now go fetch the pumpkin would you.” 

“Which pumpkin? Any particular pumpkin?”

“What? No, any pumpkin, in the fridge.” You walk to the fridge, picking out a mostly whole pumpkin that has a single chunk cut, well more hacked out of it. He takes it from you, and you almost flinch with how hard and uncoordinatedly he stabs the knife into it. When he’s done hacking out a substantial section of pumpkin meat, he puts it into the blender. “Well now we wait for that to blend.” He puts the strange mixture onto the counter. He hands it to you to mix, and it doesn’t burn to use your left arm so it doesn’t hurt and you smirk smugly. You lean against the counter, facing him as he rifles around through the cabinets. When he pops back up, holding a baking pan, and the smile on his face falls off it. “Great Jehoshaphat’s goat!” He says, and he turns on the sink as you turn around.

“How does that even happen!?” you set down the mixture and immediately turn to Jake, as the blender is currently on fire. You gape at it and suddenly a wave of water splashes onto the blender and your back, and your clothes and bandages cling to your body and you shiver and jump back as the blender cord sparks. Jake reaches foreword to yank the cord out, with a shriek as he’s shocked. Once it’s over and the blender stands there smoking, you can’t help but laugh as he drapes his button down shirt over your shoulders. Even the glancing contact of his knuckles on your clothed skin has you jerking away from his contact. It stings and you remove the tension from your shoulders after you flinch. 

“Neither of us should cook.” He laughs and cold runs over your skin from his contact points, and you just nod.

“Yeah.” You thought you were doing better, you sigh a little and pull his shirt closer around you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just like to imagine Hal going “ah ha SHIT” through this whole chapter, eating popcorn if he could.  
> Also mama Roxy <3  
> also I'm getting back on plot next chapter. it shall be entitled catalyst.


	10. Catalyst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This all might be a little too damn much for you, even now, you seriously thought you'd get over this more quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come take my pulse the pace is on a runaway train  
> Help I'm alive  
> My heart keeps beating like a hammer  
> \- Help I'm Alive, Metric

You like being at Jake’s, you repeat it to yourself over and over, a mantra, you like it, you like it, you like it. Like getting to see his excited boyish expressions as he talks, even if he spits a little when he says Fs. He smells pleasant and distinct now that you’ve (sort of) gotten used to it; it can still be a little overbearing at times, a lot of the time. You groan, sitting on Jake’s bed while he showers. You really do enjoy being with Jake he is just very overwhelming. You try to convince yourself you’re fine with him and his rather tactile mannerisms, but every single time he touches you it hurts and makes your nerves alight and is just overwhelming and you can’t control it and it’s terrifying. Your nerves turn static; every gentle brush of skin on skin contact is like sparks, and not the good kind. The kind that burn up your arms, wrap themselves around your lungs and squeeze forcing your breath shuddery and gasping. The sparks that crawl into your head, spill throughout it, a monsoon of thought you end up drowning in. The electricity which seeps into your veins and pushes your pulse into a hurried violent frenzy.

You really do try to act normal for him, accepting his light touches on the arm and gentle friendly nudges, and even letting him tear down the pillow wall in the middle of the bed. That in itself was problem, you couldn’t sleep, you could feel his breath on your skin and it sent prickling goosebumps up the back of your neck. His warmth radiating too closely, you often burrow yourself on the furthest corner of the bed, curled up tightly with a blanket wrapped around you, breathing behind your own shirt because it’s the only thing that doesn’t reek of Jake. 

Okay so maybe you aren’t so fond of Jake’s; you just want to go home. You miss your home, Sawtooth, Squarewave, all of it. You miss the lapping of the waves outside of a window, an ocean deep and blue and full of the death of an ancient civilization. The fish would dart between the destroyed streets, in and out of buildings much like the people who lived their must have. You never appreciated it before but you’re sure if you were home now you could watch it for hours. You miss the almost absolute silence of your home; Jake’s island is so loud, buzzing insects and lots of shuffling animals and the wind whipping whatever exotic fucking foliage surrounds his island. You just want everything to be quiet, and inorganic, and alone, and cramped and just not here. But you’re stuck here. 

“I like it here.” You will yourself to say out loud and it is the opposite of convincing. You can hear Hal scoff.

TT: That’s a blatant lie; the sheer amount of denial you’re in is both pitiful and amusing.

“It’s true. I like Jake, I like talking to him, and-”

TT: And that’s just it, you like talking to him, over text. When all you get is his harmless little green words flickering over your screen and not requiring any physical reaction.

"Stop using his text color, and I do like being here, it’s interesting to see Jake, another human, and his island and it’s just so much new things to see and process.”

TT: Exactly, it’s too much. “Interesting” doesn’t mean enjoyable, even with your constant curiosity. 

“Okay, so maybe this whole island and meeting another human is a bit overwhelming but I can handle it.”

TT: Can you? 

“Of course I can, I’ve done harder things before. This isn’t rocket science.”

TT: Yes because you understand rocket science.   
 TT: It is just specialized engineering after all. This situation you can’t learn about in books, or the pre-apocalyptic internet, this is a situation you can’t reverse engineer and figure out the loopholes in. Every method you’ve ever had is absolutely useless for your current predicament.    
TT: It’s a beautiful thing to watch, really, you desperately struggling for any kind of understanding. It really says a lot about your humanity.   
  TT: Or your lack thereof. 

“I’m human, I just haven’t grown up with this weird tactile horseshit, and I don’t understand why I can’t just spend some time on this island without ever coming into contact with Jake.”

TT: Do you even still want to be on this island? 

“Of course I do.” When Hal doesn’t respond instantly as he usually does it leaves you alone to seep in your surroundings. The window is thankfully closed but the tree branches brush against it every now and then and causes you to flinch, sometimes you can contain the reaction inwardly, but the creaking scratching sound resounds hollow through your bones. Jake's room smells like dirt and sweat and him, and the fresh chlorophyl stomped smell that lingers on his boots. You can hear his shower clunk to an end and his morning ritual begin. "Of course I want to be here." You repeat again, and the sun shines filtered green through the window. You groan a little putting your face in your hands. 

TT: Are you willing to accept your unwillingness to be here now? 

You don't respond, and some bullshit tropical bird squawks obnoxiously outside, an your shoulders tense almost to the point of paint. It covers up the sound of a door opening and you let out a heft sigh.

"Shit. I don't know. I just want to be home." Be comfortable and safe and alone and quiet and 

"What!?" Shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some lines I sadly couldn't work into this chapter despite how I wanted to:"Adam Sandler has never been funny.”   
> TT: I believe our gracious host would disagree. 
> 
> But I really liked writing this chapter, it was written more like one of my various oneshots then anything else. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! ^_^


	11. Catalyst (part two)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jake is obviously upset, you must be able to fix that somehow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to Dirk, food metaphors cannot make someone calm down.

You can't bear turn to face him. You hear the shower dripping to a complete stop and his voice is thick with confusion and hurt. The two of you stand silent like that, the humid air laced with heavy, unsaid sentences; missing explanation and questions left unfulfilled behind sets of teeth, dying away until Jake speaks. 

"Are you," he pauses, and you can tell several questions run through his mind. "Leaving?" You can hear the disappointment, almost betrayal in his voice. You can see his reflection in the points of your shades, you shrug. 

"How long could you have expected me to be here?" You can see his face change, flickering through emotions like channels when someone's fallen asleep on the tv clicker. 

"Well I certainly expected you to actually want to be here." He says and he sounds offended, you slam the mental brakes, railing hard. 

"Of course I do." 

"But you want to leave!?" Your mind stirs, when you were thinking to yourself, logic, rationality, you didn't have the unpredicted reactions of a second party. You don't know how to explain everything to him, you can feel yourself about to stutter, and so you keep your mouth shut until your voice can communicate clearly. "Well!?"

"Chock it up to homesickness." You say, attempted reassurance. "It'll probably just pass." His eyebrow raises in disbelief. 

"Really?" You string together words as you speak and you're sure it's total bullshit, you just hope it's convincing bullshit, the kind of bullshit people would pay heft prices for because it's 'fertilizer'. 

"Of course it's absolutely natural to be missing my home, what with the stark contrasts between mine and yours. Not to mention the sheer amount of new stimuli. It's like when you're eating a new food, you always start with a tiny bit in case it's terrible and you don't want that overpowering your tastebuds; sadly in-"

"Dirk." Jake says, sounding unamused. 

"My position the waiter just says 'fuck you' and shoves the entire goddamn steak down my throat. And okay so maybe this steak doesn't suit my particular fancy. I'm not exactly used to steak and all, I've always had to eat seafood, what the fuck am I even doing-" 

"Dirk you're rambling." Annoyed with significantly less patience. 

"In a steak house. Who's idea was if for me to come to this steak house?" Jake's. "I mean if course there was going to be repercussions, all that shit in my stomach, of course I was going to vomit." 

"Dirk!" Shit that's loud, your shoulders tense and hunch and you reflexively flinch, his voice booming and ringing around you. "Blastit I'm sorry. I just." You turn to look at him and a hand is winded in his hair and he looks stressed but his eyes are tinged with fear. "You're finally here, and it's incredible and not lonely, and I'm so sick of being lonely. I just don't want to go back to that." Your stomach drops and you sigh. You want to go home, you really do, but can you? Jake does mean a lot to you, but is it worth it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jake initially was going to get angry and yell more and not notice Dirk's reactions. Ah. Perhaps another chapter.


	12. Little victories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You don't know what you want, but you think you can do what he wants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Hal plays devil's advocate and I give you no real information on whether Dirk shall stay or go.

Things have been, for lack of a better word, awkward. You had decided not to say anything further about the subject of your wanting to leave and you’ve resigned yourself to think over every possible situation and outcome.  You could leave, but that would cause some serious rifts between you and Jake, and you’re rather interested in retain the friendship between the two of you. 

TT: You have been nursing a pathetic crush for years.   

"Shut up Hal.” You mumble; he was of absolutely no help before, why would he be any help in the aftermath. You take a deep breath, Jake’s downstairs cooking, and you flop back onto his bed, flinging an arm over your face, your side twinges in protest as you aggravate your still healing wound. You could stay here, but  you don't know how much longer you can take this. How much longer can he expect you to be here?

You think of your home, and the immense amount of contrast between his island, green, fresh, alive, and your home, blue and grey, dead, alone. The word rings through your head 'alone'. It's ridiculous, you're not alone at home, you weren't even lonely. You had Sawtooth and Squarewave, the nurse shark who you befriended during your swimming. The swimming in which you always thought of going out to where that old civilization you pretend you're of part of lays and joining it. But Jake's island is so noisy, all you're used to is the gentle lapping of waves, of storms and rain, of the work your own hands do. You're used to silence, it's all you had. This island is immense, so vast and free, your home was so cramped, so full. Confining. Jake's island is making you deal with so much, giving you so much it's overwhelming. 

No no no, you shake your head and back the fuck up. Jake's island is the worst. Too many new animals, new smells, new experiences, you could write a book exploring it all. But you won't, you would never, that would be far too overwhelming. I mean of course given time you would build up an immunity to it all, that's simply natural, but you haven't. You suppose you could, but right now the shock of it all is just too intense not to mention Jake's most likely already mad at you and you can't have that. 

Theoretically if you planned this all out to take into account your shock and fucked up instincts you could build up the immunity faster and stay for Jake. 

TT: Slow down Tesla.   
TT: you really think these machinations are at all going to work? 

"Of course."

TT: I'm afraid you're mistaken, bro. 

"Oh really now?" You're almost certain he's saying all this due to his distaste of Jake. 

TT:  Of course. 

"Not funny."

TT: Perhaps not, but it is accurate. You're seriously overestimating yourself. 

"I most certainly am not." 

TT: You really are dude, have you even been outside since you hurt your arm? 

Fuck, he's got you there and he knows it. 

"That does not matter." 

TT: You really thing that?   
TT: Even with Jake's penchant and desire for "explorations"? 

"It's not like I can't handle it." 

TT: Prove it. 

You frown, you're not going to fall into his traps, even if he makes a good point. You haven't been outside. Your eyes flick over to the balcony and you shake your head, that's ridiculous, going outside isn't going to solve anything. 

TT: That's what I thought. 

You grit your teeth, what an asshole, his smugness radiates through your shades. 

"It wouldn't prove anything." 

TT: But what's stopping you. 

"Nothing." You say, determination thick in your voice. 

TT: Then do it. 

You huff, raising off the bed and rolling your shoulder, just the one, don't want to aggravate the still bandaged wound, it'll heal quickly though with it being such a precise slice. You walk over to the balcony door and take a deep breath, and walk through. Everything is green, brown peaking through the trees so close you swear you could touch them. You could get lost in all that green, drown like you could in the ocean outside your home. Your shoulders have tensed and your lower back feels like a rock, you walk foreword, gripping the railing tightly. When you attempt to take a deep breath the smell invades your nostrils and you defensively take a step back as if you could fight it. It's fresh and natural and god it even smells green, like chlorophyl and dirt. It's revolting, your nose wrinkles without your permission. A breeze rustles the leaves next to you and you snap to look at them exhaling smoothly when you realize it's just a tree. You fear trees could damn you at this point. 

TT: Dante would be proud of that symbolism. 

"Shut up." You snap, you're tense, a rubber band stretched too close to too far. You reach a hand out, brush the smooth-rough texture of a leaf over your hands and you instantly recoil. It's so strange and new and you muster yourself up some courage again and reach out, plucking it from the tree. The deep saturated green you despise sitting in your hands. Perhaps this is all in your hands, you've got this, literally, figuratively. Man can beat nature, so man can absolutely beat human interaction. 

TT: This is hardly a substantial victory aphbrodite.   
TT: A leaf does not a forest make. 

But it does make you feel a lot fucking better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to Dante's inferno for being great. 
> 
> Aphbrodite is my best bro pun yet 
> 
> Hit me up on tumblr sometime, Barefootcosplayer.


	13. Knighting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hal may not have been impressed with your being outside, but Jake certainly is.

“Dirk?” You hear ring through Jake’s bedroom, you whip around a little faster then you would like to admit but luckily he doesn’t see you. He does turn into the balcony’s doorway, plate of food in hand, and he smiles widely. “You’re outside. ” He says, strangely subdued, almost in awe but obviously attempting to stay quiet. You nod, looking down at the leaf in your hand and twirling it a little, the horrendous green not as horrible when you can control it. “Do you know what this means!” And there goes all those attempts to be quiet, your hand reflexively tightens and the leaf snaps between your fingers.

“Nah bro, fill me in.” You say, voice coming off much more relaxed and calm then you actually feel, and you're thankful for it. 

“We can go on more adventures!” He sets the plate of what you assume is some kind of meat product onto the bed. “I have so much I want to show you! My grandmother's grave, the tombs with the ancient artifacts, I know you love history, maybe you can help me decide what some of this means, if people used to live here,” he continues to rant on, and you can't bring yourself to tell him to stop, that that's asking a bit much, that that's all ridiculous. 

TT: I suppose Man V. Human interaction is back full force, the viewers will be so pleased. 

You grit your teeth, Jake's babbling a completely separate problem on the edge of your mind. You aren't sure if he thinks you coming out and picking a leaf to be some fantastic accomplishment, but if he does he's wrong. Sure it's making you feel better, but even as you feel the forest sway behind you your heart clenches, and your throat is too dry. You swallow and it hurts, and you figure that's about a good metaphor for the best of this. Gotta have a lubricated throat or attempting to swallow is going to hurt like a bitch. Until you've been readily prepared to take on all the, seemingly numerous and extensive, expeditions Jake has planned out it's going to hurt like a bitch. Not that you could tell him that. God no, you wouldn't put your pride on the line for that, he thinks you're a badass and you're sure as hell gonna keep it that way. 

“And not to mention I could finally show you my favorite spots around the forest, show you the sea goats breaching or the oh! You would adore the dragons,” You snap out of your thoughts, chin upping a little and focusing in on him again, that certainly got your attention. 

“Dragons?” You say in disbelief, the tinkerbulls and giant spiders and centaurs certainly were enough to convince you that this island had strange animals on it, but you draw the line at dragons. He nods, all puppy enthusiasm and smiles that edge on showing too many teeth. 

“Dragons! They mainly feast on the crab creatures and they're very interesting and majestic. I'm not sure if they can breathe fire like in the movies, but not every dragon can be Smaug!” You appreciate the reference, the whole hobbit -slash- Lord of the Rings series wasn't really your favorite but it's certainly better then most of his shitty references. However, you're not so sure about dragons, you've spent your entire life around fish, and crustaceans, and while the sand sharks that circled the stilts of your home were sweet, bringing you fish and such, you hardly think they compare to dragon or 'sea goats'. Jake's still prattling on and on about his island and all of the stuff he wants to do with you, and each and every thing he lists twists the knot in your chest ever tighter. 

“Jake,” you say, effectively snapping him out of his rant with an obvious jolt of the head. His energy is almost cute if it wasn't overwhelming. “Don't you think you're.” You pause, unknowing of what to say. Your mind strings words together but they're all inevitably stupid sounding, and likely to insult Jake. You breathe, attempting to make your pause seem natural. “moving a bit fast?” you look down at the crushed leaf in your hand and exhale through your nose. “I mean I'm totally fucking on board with dragons, in complete support of dragons, not that I believe you have dragons., but I don't know if can handle dragons.” His mouth opens and you immediately cut him off. “Before a knight can kill a dragon you have to train them, get through tons of training, teach them to deal with damsels in distress, get them armor, and I- I am not a well equipped knight right now.” He seems to be mulling it over, closing his mouth and his nose wrinkling a little as his brow furrows in thought. “and I mean my wound's still in pain so I don't think any hardcore hiking is a good idea with it, especially if we're thrust like a poorly done porno into battle again.” Despite how battle comforts you, you feel yourself in battle; feelings numbing away and focus narrowing on your target you run smooth and easy in combat.

“Oh.” Is all that comes out of his mouth despite his apparent thought, and you've obviously crushed his excitement. “I suppose we can hold off the dragon wrangling for another day.” You nod, and the weird, awkward silence that had followed your fight settles over again. 

“We should totally visit the beach tomorrow though.” He perks up again. 

“Of course! The sea-goats are majestic, and I bet you haven't seen those at your empty ocean.” He teases and you exhale out what could be considered a 'laugh'. 

“I doubt I'll be impressed.” 

“Trust me you will be; but come inside I made food and you'll need it for energy tomorrow.” He turns and walks inside and you follow, letting the leaf fall out of your hand and onto the ground, most likely going to join it's brothers on the forest floor. 

“Can't wait.” You can most certainly wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is sort of late, it was supposed to upload on its own but it didn't seem to work, and shout out to the anon on tumblr for pointing it out to me.
> 
> Also! We've reached 1,000 views! Seriously thank each and every one of you without your encouragement and comments and enthusiasm this wouldn't exist.


	14. Familiar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You swear you could be a fucking siren with how much the ocean is calling you home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Throw me in the water  
> Don't think about the splash I will create  
> Leave me at the altar  
> Knowing all the things you just escaped
> 
> Push me out to sea  
> On a little boat that you made  
> Out of the evergreen that you helped your father cut away  
> -landfill, Daughter (love that song)

The trek to the beach is short and vaguely familiar, but you keep your eyes glued on the back of Jake's legs. Dark, melanin rich calves stretching and pulling at the muscle in such a routine and basic motion, yet a mesmerizing motion nonetheless. His rhythm vibrates through the ground and into your bones, a steady thumping bass. It's a good distraction from all of the goddamn nature around you. Jake's talking about something, it's hardly your first priority, his prattle a nice white noise on the edge of your mind, nothing he says is extraordinary enough to require your responding. You mirror his motions a step later, stepping over a rabbit hole moments after he does, he's good at navigating the uneven grounds of his island and it's easier to learn by example then by trial and error. 

TT: Man V Hunan Interaction is only interesting if the man actually interacts with a human. 

You roll your eyes. 

TT: Your flippant eyeroll is noted as your response. 

"Glad to hear it." You grumble at him. A loud crackling snap resounds echoing through the forest, you realize it was Jake stepping on a fallen tree branch, but it snaps you out of autopilot and you're almost painfully present. Insects buzz around you, unknown sounds rumbling through the foliage and your feet have halted in there movements. Jake doesn't notice until he's yards in front of you. 

"and that's when my grandmother said to me 'Jake Leopold English, you may be young but you are a fantastic shot!' It was one of the prou-" he cuts himself off as his head turns to look at you standing there. "Quite alright chum?" You nod slow and unsteady before taking a few steps foreword and stepping over the log he stepped on. You figure you ought to respond to what he said so you pull a question out of thin air. 

"Leopold?" You arch your eyebrow as you catch up to him, and he nods and begins walking, you walk beside him, eyes trained on his shoulders now since the backs of his legs remain out of natural view. 

"My middle name."

"You have two names?" 

"Everyone has a middle name, don't you?" You blink and in an instant your mind is static, fizzling. Your thoughts reel to connect the data, find the correct information, spit out a formulated response, but all inquiry comes up empty. Your eyes flick vacant, scouring your mind for any semblance of a correct answer; instead your mouth falls open and -an inarticulate response comes out. 

"I-" you say, stilted and more inhuman then usual with the lack of effort behind it. "I don't know." The truth, your least favorite truth. "I don't think I have one." 

"Really?" You look him in the eyes, not that he can tell, and shrug. "Well we ought to give you one!" 

"I don't really think I nee-" 

"Oh what about Richard, lots of good historical Richards!" 

"Nixon." Is all you say, and he purses his lips and nods; you're able to tune out the rest of his rant on the way to the shore. You can tell you're approaching by the smell more then the sound. It smells like home, salt and bird shit, it's just missing the metallic smell of sun beating down on metal. The tides still sound so wrong and it grates on your nerves with each crashing wave. Your first footfall on sand makes you trip a little and you catch yourself after stumbling. You look out over the ocean, thick and blue and it makes you want to swim out in an attempt to find your home or at least drown. You walk towards the rocking ocean but before you step foot in the water you look down at your shoes, bending over to begin untying them. You've always done well with repetitive motion so you have your shoes off in no time. Jake beams a smile next to you as you slip of your socks. 

"Capital idea Strider!" He says, pulling off his own thick boots an soon you're stripped down to your boxers, carrying your folded clothes over to set them under a tree. 

TT: Leave me here, I know you're going to get me wet if you don't and I don't want to die today. 

You let out a puff of air and pull your shades off folding them up and putting them atop your clothes. When you look back to the ocean, squinting and blinking in the light, Jake's clothes are strewn willy-nilly across the beach and he whoops at you from the water. You chuckle, walking across the sand, each shifting particle electric against your skin and you make your way into the ocean, and you're home. The cool familiar sea water wicks over your skin and you close your eyes, thankful for it. When you close your eyes you truly are home, and you duck your head under the water, feeling your hair lose shape and it's worth it. You swim out to where your feet can't touch and you're ecstatic. The salt burns your wound and it's a beautiful feeling. You feel the tension uncoil from your shoulders and you float on your back and look up at the blinding sky. You could almost fool yourself that there's the towering figure of your apartment building in the corner of your eye. 

When you truly fool yourself and glance over, maybe, just maybe. But it's just Jake and your illusion is broken. 

"You've got lovely eyes." He says swimming up next to you and you roll them. 

"Whatever you say bro." You mumble but it doesn't stop his speech. 

"And you're a rather strong swimmer."

"That and strifing was my only exercise growing up, and it's much easier to climb down some stairs then to build a strifebot." He laughs. 

"I suppose that's true." 

"So you'd better catch up gramps." You tease, and when you jet back under the water you make sure to splash him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd better get my writing groove back because I have had major writers block lately. 
> 
> Y'all know my tumblr by now. Check me out there.


	15. Revelation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You were sure you and Jake were on the same page, you're curious if you're even reading the same book, but you suppose he's never been observant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this on an 8-hour car trip.

Jake's not as strong a swimmer as you, and you don't bother to get out of the ocean and join him on the beach when he does. Instead you slice through the water like you were strifing it, long arms and legs really coming in handy for your languid, smooth strokes. It is so nice to be the closest you can be to home on this island. Swimming like this, joyous, unburdened, is a side of you you like to call Houston. The child in you who will swim until he drowns and not care for the consequences. Your neuroses edge away in the presence of a body of water. Slick against your skin, eyes closed, floating and diving and bobbing. Jake sits on the sand, but you're dimly aware of his presence watching you. When you take too long refusing to leave the comfort of the ocean he sticks his skulltop on and amuses himself. Much like when you get your hands on a bunch of wires and tools you lose track of time. You don't realize it's getting a bit late, nor do you care, until Jake shouts your name. 

"Dirk!" He calls, walking close to the water. You swim up to where you can hear him. His skulltop has been removed and tucked away in his sylladex. 

"What?" You blink at him, walking up to stand at thigh height water. Your wound twinges when you reach your arms above your head to mess with your hair. It's wet and drooping and it makes you grimace; you prop it up best you can in a poor imitation of your usual style and you raise an eyebrow as you mess with it. He looks over you like he's taking the view in and as your Huston personality slowly subsides you're unappreciative of the cold the breeze brings and how he's looking at you. The feeling of sand slipping beneath and between your toes is unpleasant and that golden haze you had before is gone and your tension winding up in your chest again. You whistle, loud and piercing, a talent you taught yourself in your free time at home, and it snaps Jake out of his thoughts. 

"Yes! Oh I'm simply saying it's about time we head back home chap." You nod and trek up the sand and as your skin dries and cools and you dress back in your clothing, returning your shades to your face, the discomfort of this island is almost fully pressing down on you again.

TT: "Head back home", not so sure about that, Dirk. 

You're sure he just meant his home, his pillar and ball having the height that your home has but the rest of it all kinds of wrong. You roll your eyes. 

"It was just an expression, Hal." 

TT: Was it?   
TT: Jake's a pretty literal guy when he's not doing that stupid rping. Besides when did he say he plans to send you back home? 

Jake is saying something, leading you along through the forest after you tie your shoes up tight. Honestly the forest is the thing slicing painful reality into your mind and Jake's voice is just white noise on the edge of it. Just to humor Hal you attempt to think of what Jake said when he found out about your desire to leave. You're sure you asked him somewhere in that mess of his lack of volume control, you can't however recall him giving any definite answer to the question. He was caught up in the fight, surely he can't expect you to want to stay here forever on this, an island of hell, of deadly creatures, and grass, and a human, and sand beaches, and everything unpleasant in the world. No that'd be ridiculous. 

"Don't be stupid he doesn't think I'll stay here." Hal knows you know damn well that he has the ability to respond to any message instantly, yet as you step around branches and holes and bumps he doesn't respond. You sit stewing in his silence, Jake can't expect you to want to live with him, to get used to his touch and let him use you like a human teddy-bear, eat non-fish and live on land; a ridiculous prospect. Your mind grapples and hangs onto the preposterousness of the idea. "He can't possibly believe that I'd want to live here." It's almost a scoff at the end and you can feel an eyebrow of disbelief and knowledge raised at you despite Hal's lack of physical form. "I mean come on, it's not like he'd even want me here. He only craves human touch, and strifes, and someone to physically talk to, and hold at night, and..." You peter out, monologue continuing in your head and oh fuck he can't expect you to stay. 

TT: We _have_ figured it out haven't we? 

"Shit." Is all that falls out of your mouth without permission, hardly articulate. 

TT: I see you have figured it out, mercrutibro. 

_"Shit!"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please take a moment to imagine Dirk with a man bun. 
> 
> Thanks that's all.


	16. Rationality lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This entire trip is really taking it's till on you, among other things, and you're starting to think this entire thing may have been a bad idea.

Things with Jake when you return from the beach are awkward to say the least. His bed is no longer split into two parts, you constantly fear of waking up in a bear hug. Your clothing sits besides his dresser, neatly folded so it's not clogging your sylladex but semi-permanent there nonetheless. Jake's in the shower after the two of you had eaten some strange dark meat that had tasted too raw and sat in your stomach like a rock and still you're having trouble digesting it and you just hope to god you don't vomit as it churns in your stomach. It's a good reminder of how strange this all is though. You sit on his bed, legs crossed over each other, hands resting on your knees, palms up. You can vaguely feel the rhythmic tap of your fingers on your hand but you don't remember beginning it and you're too caught up in thought to care. 

You're honestly torn. You know he wants you here and you understand why he wants you here, you've had lots of conversations with Roxy about loneliness but it would seem the sting of it affects her more then it does you. That's completely disregarding the robots you built under pretty shitty pretense because you've always been sort of- nope not going there. You know why Jake wants to touch you and talk to you like you're able to over pesterchum, but pesterchum distances you from the conversation and it's always easier to put on a persona over the chat client. Not that you would call it a persona, you're cool and collected and stoic and full of innuendos and bro puns, but it's a bit overwhelming to show them. 

You really need to switch topics, you're starting to feel like a tool, a weak one at that, and that is utterly unacceptable. 

The fingers tapping your palm switches their rhythm to a faster beat, and one you recognize but you can't place the song in your mind. 

You're feeling a bit selfish with the absolutely urge to go home but you've always been a little selfish. You could get used to it, if you had immense amounts of time and the urge to do so but you don't really want to, for Jake maybe. You'd message Roxy, but she wouldn't understand and you know if you talked to Jake he wouldn't understand either and that would end terribly, so it's up to you and you have to rationalize this shit out. You wish you could tell any emotions regarding this situation to fuck the hell off so you could think about this clearly but despite your best attempts it's not working. You take a deep inhale through your nose, hold it in your system for a while, an slowly exhale. You repeat it but your stomach makes a disgusting gurgle halfway through and your left hand comes to clench itself in your side, attempting to sooth it. The rest of your breath come out as an unhappy growl. You cannot keep worrying like this in this environment unless you want to ruin Jake's sheets, and not in a good way. Your eyebrows furrow. 

TT: Damn I haven't seen you this stressed in a long time.    
TT: And you're essentially a singularity of stress so that's saying something. Your back muscles must be fucking diamonds with all that pressure and tension, it's almost impressive you're as flexible as you are with how tight they are.

"Shut up." You growl, voice strained, hand rubbing your side to hopefully help your stomach. This entire situation really is tearing you up inside, it'd probably be best for you to go home at this point but you care about Jake and don't want to ruin your friendship or upset him, and he seemingly needs you here in an intense and powerful way that has nothing to do with you personally and everything to do with you being a person. You shake your head, aggravated, all relaxation from swimming gone with no intent of coming back.

Jake walks out of the bathroom and you can feel his eyes on your back, your fingers clench into your side. 

"Everything alright, chum?" He sounds truly concerned and you cannot deal with this right now. You get off the bed, walking slowly to keep from sloshing the contents of your stomach, though you can feel it. You walk past him swiftly, pushing open the bathroom door, the air still steamy from his shower. 

"We need to talk." Comes out of your mouth without permission and you shut the door in his face. 

"What!?" You can hear his confused questions and 'just wait a minute strider!''s, but your shirt is off and you're hastily ripping your belt from your jeans when you have to stop to vomit into the toilet. At least that helps you feel better, and you hope he shower you start will too. You're not looking foreword to talking to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to write a surprise chapter to celebrate 100+ kudos but I got obsessed with bioshock (again) and was suffering from writers block.   
> But still! 100+ kudos!!!


	17. Anxiety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You've tried, you have tried so fucking much to adjust and it's just not working. You're fed up with trying.

As you step out of the shower water drips off of your hair and your stomach feels slightly better, after purging itself of whatever the fuck Jake thought you could digest. You pull on your boxers and pants, fastening your belt and looking up into the mirror. Your hands automatically go to your drooping, stringy, wet hair and you lock eyes your reflection. Your shades aren't often off and the violence of your eyes startles you, you'd compare them to flames but you think that'd be a bit romanticized. You're more concerned, however about the dark bags lying under your eyes. You haven't been able to sleep, properly sleep, in so long. You've always been an insomniac and the nightmares never help, but this is a level of exhausted your never reached. When you slide your shades onto your pointed nose it's to hide your tiredness and keep the light from pulsing against the back of your eyes in a surefire way to give you a headache. You slip your shirt on, and you're attending to your hair when your shades light up. 

TT: "We need to talk." 

The words linger on the edge of your mind, you think you're supposed to recognize something about them, and you absentmindedly run your hands back, spiking your hair on autopilot as you think of it. Then the cogs slide together and it clicks. _We need to talk._ Your words to Jake, you've doomed yourself to a talk about your anxieties. Your empty, and still slightly upset, stomach drops. You can't go out there and have that talk. Your eyes flicker from Hal's words to your reflection, slowly shaking your head. 

TT: Can't back out now, brosephine. 

It's days like these, when he scrapes at your nerves, that you wish you could snap him in half and be rid of him. You suppress the urge and as you turn to the door it's suddenly so much more daunting. Your stomach rumbles and you grimace. 

"Let's just get this over with." You say, attempting to sound determined, but you still can't bring yourself to open the door, though your hand does reach for it. Placing your hand on the, too cold, doorknob and you entire body feels electric and frozen. There's a pause between it all and your shades radiate smugness.

TT: You're not exactly getting it over with. 

You growl, down in your throat and quiet and push the door open just to spite him. Jake's head whips from where he was watching tv, laying on the bed, to look at you, eyes wide and concerned. 

"Strider! You can't just say stuff like that and run off, you're going to make a fellow mighty concerned, not that you haven't been, did you vomit? I thought I heard vomiting. Is everything alright? What did you need to talk to me about?" Your head spins a little, attempting to wrap itself around the bombardment of questions you're receiving. You stutter, before clearing your throat. 

"Yes I vomited, I'm fine, we need to talk about me, and my being here." You can already tell you're going to hate this, but Jake seems sated, not calming from his frenzy like you had hoped, but seemingly better. 

"Yes you said you wanted to leave, are you leaving? Why don't you want to stay here?" You cut him off this time.

"English holy shit shut up." His teeth clack shut audibly. "Thank you. I don't know if I can stay here." 

"What do you mean?" Immediately bolts out of his mouth and your eye twitches a little, you weren't done. 

"This is all too much-"

"I am? Or is it-"

"Jake!" You say, louder then your usual mumble and feeling a bit tense from it all. "Shut up, seriously. I can't take it. All of it, the island, the food, yes you know what even you! It's nothing personal but just, you, a person trying to touch me and I can't deal with it." Jake's face falls, he's obviously thinking, his eyes flitting and he eventually looks back at you, looking you over and you attempt not to shift or squirm under his uncomfortable gaze. He opens his mouth, and you certainly weren't expecting what comes out. 

"How can I make you stay?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been stress central over here, but this was nice to write.


	18. Reflex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're almost positive Jake's insane, but now you might be too.

You shake your head, baffled.

“Jake what the hell are you talking about?” He blinks like the question was simple.

“I asked how I could make you stay.”

“After I told you I wanted to leave?”

“I want you here,” he sighs, taking off his glasses and cleaning them, his voice more humble then its usual booming tone. “It’s been so long since I’ve had a human here and I’m willing to work with your, erm, problems, if it makes you stay.” Each word is so earnestly heartfelt and it his honesty makes you want to stay longer, if only for him. The solemness in his eyes is almost painful to look at but luckily your shades allow you to look away. 

“I know-” you cut yourself off, the words refusing to come to mind and you can tell by how Jake shuffles his feet he's waiting for you to talk, but the phrasing won't come. “I don't-” You try again, different beginning, same ending. It's frustrating, the kind of frustrating you get when your fingers refuse to move when you work on a project. You swallow, sigh, your fingers clench but you tamp down the urge to fist them in your hair. “I don't know.” It's a pathetic confession and you hate it but it's the truth, not that you're too fond of that either. 

“Is there something I can do?” He sounds desperate, deeply so, he shakes his left legs, nerves. He won't meet your eyes, or where he thinks they are. 

“I don't know.” You say again, but more sure in it, more frustrated with it, you should know. Why did you stay at home? Because you had to, the answer wasn't what you were looking for so you rephrase the question. Why do you want to go home? Your eyes glaze over as you think about it, why do you? You focus only on digging in your head for an answer you know you go stock still. Fuzzy and static on the edge of your mind you hear Jake's words taper off and he clears his thoughts, it's not nearly interruptive enough to snap you out of your thoughts, In your glasses Hal seems so obviously watching you, poking around in your brain. You can barely decipher Jake when he says your name and you don't notice a warm, brown hand reaching towards you, your eyes blindly focuses on the wall behind his right shoulder, until it makes contact with the bony slope of your shoulder. You immediately jolt away from the touch, your eyes resting on his hand frozen in the air where your shoulder was. You blink at is if it's foreign to you and _that_ that is why you want to go home. And yet- 

Your eyes skim up Jake's arm and settle on his face, so worried and concerned as he lowers his arm. Your posture is rock solid, rigid and tense like a straight man who had unknowingly walked into a gay bar. Your mind digs back the memory of how you'd avoided even the smallest hint of contact before, how when he'd touched you before it was a fire, white hot burning pain that lasted and smouldered for hours afterwards. Yet now, when your eyes glance from his hand to where it had touched your shoulder, it was a shock, electric and a flash of that pain with a deep lingering tingle tickling the nerves beneath your shirt with the pressure of it. _Improvement._ You'd known it would happen, and you know you could work to speed up the process, you've done it before, several times when forced to acclimate to new things. It's like swimming, the best way is to plunge yourself in and swim, this time you were simply dunked into the water and you've yet to struggle, but you won't give in, you won't drown. You shift your posture, breaking the rigidity and you hear Jake release a deep breath. 

“You really can frighten a guy when you act like that, chum!” He says bright and happy and relieved, you don't bother to tell him it's a reflex. 

“I think,” you pause, contemplating. “I could try to stay a little longer.” His mouth splits like orange slices and he opens it to say something but you put your hand up, stopping him in his delighted track. “On my terms of course.” he nods, over enthusiastic and when you put your hand down he immediately rushes towards you like he was holding back. Crushing your chest against his he wraps his arms around you, almost crushing your ribs, you breath comes a bit shorter but you refuse to let it sound like such. He lifts you off your feet, your spine rigid and those sparks wrapping around each and every nerve as he spins you around and sets you back down, so quickly you barely had time to react to the onslaught of sensation, a tornado of such. You blink when you're set down, stumbling a bit, he looks sheepish, but it's obviously forced over a base of deep elation. “That,” you gasp, rolling your shoulders and standing up straight again now that your footing is assured. “Is not a part of my terms.” He laughs, loud and boisterous and booming and it doesn't send a shock of fear but you feel the tinge of panic, the urge to get as far away from him as possible, but you repress it for now, as his overbite gleams at you. 

“My apologies, Strider! You'll have to clue me in on these terms.” All boyish scrape-your-knees-up excitement and bite-your-lip jittery delight. Then, a much more subdued “so long as you're here with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> School started again AND I had a con this weekend, i am exhausted so i hope you enjoy this! ^_^!


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